Two Views Of A Cadaver Room
by Vreeka
Summary: "His comment about my dead innards repeats in my mind, and it freaks me more than I'd previously thought. Because I've been here before, and I never thought I'd be here again." A post Chosen/NFA series. Buffy loses everything but the apocalypse. B/A. Feat. Nina Check out chapter 1 for more details. Rated M for Mature themes, and angst.
1. Chapter I

Because nobody likes a vague **disclaimer:** Characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

I'm back! after years. haha. Anyways, 'new' old work. This is a story i've had forever, it's mostly written though it's still lacking an ending, so needless to say updates won't be too painful at first. And hopefully, they won't be at the end either. The series title comes from a Sylvia Plath poem and chapter titles will feature lines from different poems and poets.

Summary: Set 5 years after Chosen, Buffy is on her own as she's lost everyone she loves, and is taking on the next Apocalypse. If you know my writing, you know I don't deal in action, so this series will focus on the days/months after. B/A ultimately. Chapters/drabbles will alternate between Angel and Buffy POV.

Warning: This is a mostly angst story. Lots of drama too. Don't read if you're expecting any smut, Scoobies or A Team. Potential for editing after posting.

Rated M for Mature Themes.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter 1: Thy Firmness Makes My Circle Just &amp; Makes Me End Where I Begun**

_from A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning by John Donne._

**†**

I hear the phone ring within the depth of the apartment behind me, but I don't pay attention to it.

It's never for me.

Instead, I focus on the images in front of me. The view of the Roman nightscape from my mid-rise Italian flat, has inspired me enough to set brush to canvas, and see what grows from that.

Nina and I have been here nearly three years, and while Nina's thrived and I haven't exactly (soul is still intact), I've at least managed to find a semblance of peace.

"Angel," Comes her voice as she steps past the light linen curtains covering the open balcony doors.

She doesn't usually interrupt me when I 'create', so I turn to her quickly in surprise. Her face is tinted with irritation that fades slightly when I catch her eye, and it becomes apparent to me that it's directed to whomever is on the other end of the line.

"It's for you." She finishes, extending the cordless to me.

I put the paintbrush and pallet down on the small wooden table to my right, and head towards her taking the phone from her grasp when I reach her. Immediately, she turns away and disappears back inside.

I don't need to hear the voice to know who it is. Aside from the fact that only one person knows this number from my end, Nina's face says it all.

"Faith." I say into the phone.

"You better get your ass back over here, Angel." She replies seriously. And serious is not a tone I like hearing from Faith.

"What is it?" I enquire as I rush inside, heading straight to the small safe hidden behind the frame in our room. It's there for emergencies such as this one is bound to be.

"Never mind what, just get here. It's happening too fast, and people are dropping like flies." She answers, her grave tone still present.

My hand freezes as I ask, "Buffy?"

"She's alive." Faith responds.

However, before I get a chance to feel relief course through me, she continues.

"But I only mean that in the physical sense. They're all dead, and it looks like she wants to join them."

It takes a second for my hand to resume its course, because I know exactly who the 'they' are.

"I'm coming." I say just as I get the safe open.

I'm about to hang up until my vampire hearing catches Faith's voice.

"Angel, wait!"

I return the receiver to my ear, "What?" I ask impatiently.

Surprisingly, she takes a few seconds to answer.

"We're in L.A."

I don't respond, though I'm sure she'd expected as much.

"Call me when you can." She says after a few moments, her tone soft.

"I will." It's a lot short of a goodbye, but I hang up without another word.

"What's happening?" Nina asks, appearing out of the blue.

Leaving the phone on the bedside table I grab my fake ID, and enough money to last, before I lock the safe once again.

"I have to go back." I answer as I walk towards her.

"Now," I add.

"I'm coming with you." She says after I've passed her.

"I'm leaving now."

I hear her rummage around the room as I pull out a few other necessities.

We're out of the apartment less than five minutes later, Nina trailing behind me. I might have argued with her about her coming if there was any time for that. She's just as stubborn as I am, and even less relenting. As it is, I'm already late.

Nina's voice is locked tight up until we arrive at the airport, and remains that way after we're finally boarded (we have to go private so I can avoid the sun).

It's obvious i'm lost in my thoughts, though it's also obvious she's lost in her own. I've come to realize Nina has a hard time letting things go, and I haven't always been straight with her in the past, so when I finally came clean about Buffy, I hadn't really shirked on the details.

In retrospect, it might've been a better idea to avoid certain specifics. When I came to

Buffy's 17th birthday and the losing of my soul, she hadn't taken it well. She had reason of course, and I tried to explain that it wasn't just about Buffy but the accumulation of all that had happened in that time, of not only her acceptance but the others as well. She hadn't disputed me, but it was clear she hadn't really bought it either.

Ever since I met her, I could feel this great warmth about her, like a bright fire on a bitter winter's night. Right now though, like when Faith had called earlier, there is none of that heat i'm so accustomed to. The notion that I lost my soul with Buffy and don't with her, must have stuck in her subconscious because whenever anything even closely regarding Buffy comes up, she's all cold shoulder, and I know what that means on her.

It's true our relationship is nothing like what I had with Buffy, but that's not a bad thing. With Buffy, we fell hard and fast, it was all passion but chaos as well, living like it was our last day, because a lot of the time, it could have been.

With her it's different. She has her own darkness that matches my own, that steadies my own. Our love is like a river that eddies and flows, balanced and steady. She's always been this great source of support in my existence, but she needs me as much as I need her. With her I feel like more than a vampire, and when she takes me in her arms, I feel almost human.

I look over at Nina, her head is cupped in her left hand as she glances out the small window before her. I reach out to her right hand resting on the armrest and cover her hand in my own. The contact forces her head towards me, and despite the seriousness of her posture, she smiles warmly at me.

The tension fades as she shifts towards me, her palm meeting mine as our fingers intertwine, and she leans her head on my shoulder. Even without words, she's always understood me.

* * *

A/N: So the chapters won't always be this short, but sometimes they will be, hence the drabble addendum. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome and appreciated. New chapter up soon, Buffy POV.

Thanks again!


	2. Chapter II

Because nobody likes a vague** disclaimer:** Characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

What you need to know (if you read chapter one when I originally posted it): I changed the first chapter, so you'll need to re-read that, because it's new. (I forgot I had written an Angel POV that I actually wanted to start with. My bad, sorry!) So this is Buffy, POV.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter II: Because I Could Not Stop For Death, He Kindly Stopped For Me**

_from Because I Could Not Stop For Death by Emily Dickenson_

**†**

"I have to do this."

My voice is forceful, and strong, denoting only the presence of the slayer. 'Buffy' has taken a leave of absence; she represents weakness, and right now, I can't have that. It no longer surprises nor scares me how easily that side of me can be shut off.

Angel places his hand on mine gently, but he doesn't know me anymore. Besides, the Buffy he loved circa 1997, is long gone. There are no cracks in my shield, he won't get through.

"You have to leave. This is-"

"Your fight, I know." He interrupts finishing my sentence, his tone derisive.

"I've heard that one before but it can't be like that anymore."

Pausing, he stands, the anger palpable in the air around us.

"I lost my family too."

I whip my head away from him, and snap my eyes shut. I focus on pushing away the subject of his words. I can't think about them, because each death replays too vividly in my mind. From Giles falling first to Xander... Then Willow... and finally failing to protect Dawn, when she was all I had left.

Without a sound he sits beside me again, and his hand cups my shoulder. Unwillingly, I sink into his touch, allowing the comfort he wants to provide.

"Angel?" Another familiar voice cuts through the air as it cuts through me.

Our physical connection suddenly stings so I pull away, but the lack of it hurts almost as much. I stand. The owner of the voice comes into the crumbling office we're in, and when the familiar woman sees me, I notice the worry in her eyes.

"I didn't know I would be interrupting."

Our gazes lock for a moment, and we both know that's not the truth. Nina's not comfortable with the idea of him and I alone, which I don't understand.

She walks up to Angel, and sits beside him, holds the hand that was just on my shoulder, and the knowing that almost puts a smirk on my face. The way she clings to Angel is meant to claim territory. I'm a woman too, I know the stance, the hidden subtleties.

But her insecurity is all in vain, because it's been five years since I've kissed those icy lips of his, and well, the last time we'd seen each other... we weren't really on the best of terms either. And anyways, there's the obvious fact that he chose her. And I'm no home wrecker, at least not in that sense. My destroyed home and family are another story.

"You weren't, Angel was just leaving." I say confidently. I won't let her see any more than that.

Nina nods and smiles at me, but I sense the duress it takes her to do it. I force a grin out as well, trying my best to be courteous to the woman whom I believe, has stolen from me. That's not really the truth though. I let him slip through my fingers of my own free will, but the pretence helps me get by.

She stands, pulling Angel with her as she does. Despite his initial words, he leaves willingly, however his eyes locked on mine tell a different story.

When they've finally left the room, I let the slayer in me step down. My body loosens a little as the Buffy side of me takes her stead. I haven't let my guard down since the night Giles died. There were times when I tried to summon her to no avail, and I was beginning to think she might never come back.

I walk over to the window and glance out at the destruction that lies before me. One small patch of L.A. tarnished, and blocked off, lost to normality forever. Because of me. Because I was too busy pretending I could just disappear and that would be ok, because I'd served my time. I cover my eyes then, trying to shut off the barrage of memories assaulting me. Focusing instead on the here and now, my hands fall in success.

The end is near. I can feel it as surely as I can feel the comforting warmth of the moon on my face (I always was a creature of the night). The proclaimed End of Days is upon me, and I can't help but hope that this'll finally turn out to be my last hurrah.

"I'm not leaving."

I briefly wonder how he got away from Nina but his voice behind me doesn't surprise, nor does the stubbornness tainting his words. I realize that this isn't like Sunnydale, this is more the Angel of L.A. There's conviction in his refusal to leave. Arguing about this any further is futile, I know it.

"You can't do this alone. But together, we can beat this."

I don't tell him how together we're not, how Nina alone is proof enough of that. We're standing in the same room but we may as well be miles apart. I don't tell him that I think he's wrong, that this apocalypse has already won.

The sad truth is that I don't say any of these things because I don't want to convince him to leave.

"Fine, but it's your funeral."

* * *

Thanks again!


	3. Chapter III

Because nobody likes a vague **disclaimer:** Characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

Angel POV. A bit of a longer chapter.

Thanks again for reviewing and reading!

* * *

**Chapter III: Body Of A Woman, You Look Like A World Lying in Surrender**

_from Body Of A Woman by Pablo Neruda_

**†**

The violence of the end lasts about a week after our arrival. Nina does what she can, even despite her lack of experience, and holds her own. She takes to the wounded slayers as Buffy, Faith and I take on the End of Days.

Things don't play out the way I thought they would. The army of slayers turn to Faith for leadership, and Buffy follows suit. She sticks to herself mostly, and while she's deadly lethal, she repeatedly leaves herself exposed.

I recognize the look well though, not by sight, but by memory. With the familiarity of her pain comes the memory of the family I'd also lost, and I promise myself to keep a close eye on her.

As the days pass, and she grows more and more despondent, there is little that I can say that'll she'll even respond to. The emptiness in her eyes frightens me more than they had the time I saw her after she'd been yanked from Heaven.

On that last fateful day, I keep her close as much as possible, but the fight thickens and I can't stop her from moving away, and I lose sight of her. And then Faith nearly goes down, and I stop trying to find her.

Seconds or minutes go by, and she reappears covered in blood that isn't her own, I only know by the blue tinge of it. The next time I steal a glance at Buffy I recognize her resign in the stifled flow of her movements. Knowing the feeling all too well, I make my way closer to her. The steady stream of foes slows my progress, and when I'm momentarily distracted by a particularly nasty F'yorl demon, it happens.

I don't seen the actual moment when she gives up, I only see her bleeding and on the ground after I vanquish the last fiend standing in my way. My eyes flash to her attacker even as my feet rush to her side. A Mohra demon. Despite the way these few seconds seem to decelerate to an almost stand still pace, I don't have time to focus on the irony of the situation.

When I'm upon them, I swing my arms powerfully, my blade connecting with the large ruby on the Mohra's forehead almost of its own accord. But, unlike the one other time I'd faced this particular enemy, it doesn't just crack into light.

Just as the crystal cries out as it's destroyed, a giant white flash appears. Then there's a searing pain like lightning through my chest bringing me to my knees and suddenly my heart is pumping hard in my chest.

I'm human. Even though I'd signed it away, even though I hardly deserve it.

The black of night disappears with the brightness, and in its place shines the sun. I take one quick look around but there's no sign of demons anywhere; it's as if the whiteness burned them all away. However, there's no time to celebrate, and I rush to her side.

There's no way to know if she's alive until I actually reach her and place my fingers just under her jaw to feel her pulse, and I find myself cursing my humanity for the first time.

"Is it over?" I hear among the commotion of slayers gathering each other, some injured more than the other's but all moving together.

"Keep your guard! It's over when I say it is!" I hear Faith yell as she makes her way over to where Buffy lies.

Her pulse is faint but there, and I let out a small breath I hadn't realized i'd been holding.

Checking for wounds, I find that his blade managed to find it's way under her arm, blood is pouring down her side and I tear a strip from my shirt with as much speed as I can muster, and cover the wound as best as I can. She has other fairly serious slices to her body, and she's bruised and broken unconscious.

"Is she alive?" I hear someone ask from behind Faith.

"How about you go find me a car instead of waisting her time with your yapper?" Faith snaps back, her tone clearly exasperated.

Once the slayer's gone she asks, "So is she?"

"Yes." I answer simply.

I tuck my arms carefully under her and lift trying to avoid moving her too much, but as my reflexes aren't what they were, I'm not entirely successful. She doesn't respond at all, and that worries me more because the shape of her bones ought to have forced her to scream out as I jostled them.

Without more words, and all the slayers shuffling out of the way without being asked, I carry her in my arms. As her blood soaks my shirt and I feel her life slipping under my fingers, the slayer from before appears ahead of us. When Faith drives us off, I remember Nina, but it's too late to turn back now and the whole way to the hospital I say Buffy's name like a mantra, over and over again trying to get a response from her, but she doesn't wake.

I deliver her to more knowing hands and after their short interview they shuffle me away, and Faith and I wait. There are other people in the waiting area as well, but the space is large, and we find a spot with enough distance to those around us. We don't speak at first, but when I finally look over at her, I realize that I hadn't even checked to see if she was ok too.

"I'm ok, Angel. Slayer healing, remember?" She says before I have chance to ask.

I try to smile at her but with her reaction I imagine it was a feeble attempt. I look up in hopes of seeing someone with answers, but the room still only occupies those of us waiting.

"So that's all it took huh?" Her voice sounds almost jovial, but the thing that surprises me most are her words, so my gaze quickly returns to her.

I feel my breath catch once again, and I feel compelled to disagree with her.

"That's not what-" I start to say but she speaks over me seemingly not having expected an answer.

"All you had to do was save the damsel! And here I thought you'd already done that. Numerous times, in fact."

This isn't where I thought she was going, and I'm glad she hadn't given me a chance to finish my sentence. However, this conclusion is also preposterous, and offers the same wrong connotations as the one I'd come to, and is just as dangerous if spread to the wrong ears.

"I finished what she started and killed the right demon. That's all that happened."

She smirks, "That's a good way of putting it."

I open my mouth to argue but she beats me to it again.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

I find myself weary of this conversation, and know that if I argue her point i'm only adding fuel to her fire and so I turn away from her and stand.

I'm pacing the waiting room floor, the blood drying on my clothing, when Nina finds me. She doesn't reproach me, just rushes into my arms, even despite the gore that covers me. She pulls away almost immediately, gazing at me hard.

"Angel?"

Somehow she's picked up on the change i'd actually forgotten. My lips turn up haphazardly, and I reach out for her hand, placing it over my chest. I don't have the courage to say in words what the pumping of my heart can say for me.

Her confusion shifts to joy as her smile deepens, and she wraps her arms around me once more. I wish I felt the same, but I'm not at that feeling quite yet. I can't celebrate my life when it might possibly be the end of Buffy's.

It isn't until the next day that we hear anything concrete. The doctor says she's very lucky to have survived (having blamed her state on a car accident), with all the broken bones and blood loss it's a wonder she made it to the hospital at all.

She's out of the woods mostly, but she's in a coma and the longer it takes for her to wake up, the smaller the chances are that she will. Then he leaves, the nonchalance all doctors have when it comes to the lives of patients, colouring his steps.

On the third day, Nina finally agrees to go home and rest. She tries to get me to go with her, but I can't bring myself to leave. I tell Nina it's because I'm worried of what Buffy's capable of, considering how she'd gone down, though I haven't yet told her exactly how I got my human life back.

Faith returns a few hours later, and even though I still want to rage at her for waiting till it got as bad as it had to call me, there's just no room for that now. With everything regarding the apocalypse over, she now seems determined on the future.

"They're all looking to me Angel. And as much as I'd like to be here to give her a piece of my mind, i've got a hell mouth to protect and a -now small, no thanks to her- army of slayers to command."

Faith speaks with her usual sass, but there's real anger laced in her words.

"She never meant for this to happen." I answer evenly.

She scoffs, giving me a look, and takes a few steps back and forth in the waiting room, the tension in her movements palpable.

"Well it did. She made the wrong choice, and now she's gotta live with it. Just like the rest of us."

I don't pretend to know everything that's happened with the Scoobies, all I know is that after they'd left Sunnydale, Buffy had eventually gone on the road to look for slayers, and even though she continuously sent them back to Cleveland, it was like she was gone.

"She's lost everyone Faith-"

"She's not the only one!" She nearly exclaims, interrupting me.

Reigning in her anger, she remains solemn as she adds, "They were my family too."

I'm not sure why I hadn't realized it; she'd been with them ever since the collapse of Sunnydale, and with Buffy gone, they'd undoubtedly rallied behind her.

"I'm sorry-" I start to say but she doesn't let me finish.

"I'm not saying I don't hope she wakes, all i'm saying is I can't afford to wait and see."

She stops moving to say this and looks me in the eye, her manner firm. She's about to continue but I speak first.

"Why did you wait so long to call me?"

She falters, and her expression softens.

"The Scoobies, they were great and I'll always miss them, but they weren't the most forgiving of people."

I know exactly what she means, and even though I thought i'd proved myself years ago, it seems old prejudices are the hardest to die. Though I can't say I hold it against them because I have a set of my own, and it's now obvious why she hadn't called. After everything that had happened with Wolfram and Hart, I was the last person they'd call for help, likely even, to be the last one who'd want to help. I now realize she'd only called because they were gone.

"Call me when she wakes, will you?"

My attention goes back to her, and she finally seems resigned with whatever animosity she'd been holding before. I nod, resigned as well with her, and the rest of the slayers' departure. She moves to leave and I feel compelled to say one more thing.

"Don't make the mistake she made. Don't doubt yourself, but don't forget that you don't have to do this alone either."

She smiles genuinely, and leaves.

* * *

A/N: So I know I said no Scoobies, and there really won't be, but I thought it was necessary to explain some things about Faith and the others. Other details regarding them will pop up here and there, but we won't be seeing much more of Faith from here on out.

Anyways, Buffy's up next, and soon!

Thanks again.


	4. Chapter IV

Because nobody likes a vague **disclaimer:** Characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

Buffy POV.

* * *

**Chapter IV: Dying Is An Art, Like Everything Else, I Do It Exceptionally Well**

_from Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath_

**†**

My eyelids are heavy as I struggle to wake up. I can hear the heart rate monitor translating the voice of my heart.

_Beep _

_Beep _

_Beep _

Each sound, a proclamation:

**_Alive _**

**_Alive _**

**_Alive_**

I can feel its constant repetitive stream all the way down to my bones. Unable to focus, my lids droop down in defeat and gravity. With death permeating my dreams, I can't avoid the flicker of violence, blood, loss and tears that flashes behind my closed eyes.

Someone's holding my hand, and I know it's him. Not because I can sense him, because I can't, not at all in fact. And it's not the familiar pattern he traces on the back of my hand, the one he uses to calm his own anxiety. I know it because everyone else I love is dead.

He's the only one left, but that's not really saying much because our love is as dead as the rest of them. So I see no harm in letting him hold my hand.

Truth: I'm holding onto his.

Unable to avoid it any longer, I open them again. The starkness of the room is overwhelming at first, but like everything else in my life, it soon vanishes.

"Buffy."

My name is relief as it leaves his lips, and for a minute I pretend that he still loves me.

'Angel' I think, but don't dare say. The name game is too familiar, too intimate. I answer with silence instead, facing him so that I can look into his eyes. They're wiser and older than his beautiful face, and once upon a time I would have lost myself in this new open expression of his, but now, I feel nothing.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, his voice a caress, as if asking gently makes the truth of my life easier to bear.

I'm not sure how to answer his ridiculous question, so I don't. Then, either too much time has passed or he senses that I won't answer (I can't tell which), he continues.

"Say something please."

I think about saying things like: 'I never thought i'd want to die again'... or 'they're gone, and a part of me feels... free' (that's the worst of my unmerciful thoughts, and it fills me with shame every time I remember the un-lie of it). And then there's the most primal of truths, I'm tired. So tired of it all.

But instead "When can I get out of here?" comes out of my mouth.

Hospitals are death in concentration, and my life already has too large a dosage. Never mind that my body aches in pain, and the drugs addle my mind, I want out. His face goes sour at my words, and for a moment I think I see hurt in his eyes. It's gone quickly, and my notice of it does as well. After a moment of what I assume to be composure he speaks.

"Probably a little longer than you'd like. I know you want to get out of here, but let yourself heal first ok? I'll leave you alone if that's what you want."

He moves to stand, and I use whatever strength I have to tighten my grasp on our only connection left. He gets the unspoken message and sits back down.

"How bad am I?" I ask tentatively, and instantly hate myself for it.

They're all dead, what does it matter how I am?

"Selfish," I mumble.

I'm grateful he doesn't say anything even though I'm sure he heard me.

"You've been... asleep for some time..." He starts to say, but I don't want to hear about it after all.

"It doesn't matter." I interrupt. "Please, it just doesn't-"

Words disappear from my lips, and he's always understood me best without them, so he changes the subject. Well, sort of.

"This may not mean much to you, but I'm glad you're alive."

As it turns out, it doesn't.

**†**

He's sitting beside me, a book in his hands when I wake up. He doesn't notice, and I take advantage by soaking up the warmth of his nearness.

It's been a few days since I first woke here, and luckily so far Nina's visits to my room have been near nonexistent. She did however, come that first day i'd woken, to offer her support or stake her claim, i'm not sure which since we've never (obviously) been close. She'd implied that she wasn't far off when he came so every time Angel's visited since, it's like she's in the room with us, and I can't bring myself to say much to him.

As the minutes tick by, the tension in the air when we're together gradually fades away, but we remain quiet and I find myself enjoying the simplicity of his visits. Not so much so to admit it, though it is ironic how we always manage to be at opposite ends of the spectrum. Everything I've done has amounted to nothing, the weight of guilt and despair of my past suffocating the life out of me.

And Angel, well, he's human. He hasn't said as much, but I'm not a fool. Setting aside the fact that his skin is warm (which is only experienced that first day), I know of his chianti, shushi, shashu, whatever. Giles and Willow had found out shortly before... well before, and if I hadn't already been in the bowels of defeat, I might have been angry that he never told me. The last apocalypse that we, well him mostly, stopped is only more proof.

I'm reminded of the dream that plays in my sleep sometimes, the one that's always the same. Other complexities of the mind never bleed into it, it's distinctly poignant and almost tangible.

He's an angel standing in the sun (pun-intended), and he kisses me with turbulent desire, and when he's inside me, I'm the embodiment of happiness. My intuition tells me it's more than fancy, more than a fairytale, more than wishful thinking. It happened but somehow it never did.

I've never pretended to understand all the intricacies of this world (I'm the enforcer type), but I do know that it doesn't change much anyways. It'd just be one more time he's left me.

I try to go back to the moment I was sure my time was up. I remember the rubble digging into my back and the silver blade overhead in the raised arms of my attacker bringing me death and peace.

I'm not proud of the fact that I pretty much gave up before the battle was won, but Angel was there, and well, ok, the truth: I didn't really care. In my mind, I'd already failed. It's funny how your whole family dying does that. Not funny, 'haha'. I mean the other kind, the one that's not 'haha' at all.

Putting the truth aside, I focus on the last moment. Demon arms up high, but then there's nothing. All that I remember next is waking here. I've lost time, and no matter how hard I try to focus on it, there's nothing. It's unclear how my heart is still pumping, and the monitor is still narrating, especially since I feel like nothing more than a corpse.

He fidgets all of a sudden, and before his eyes land on me, I look away.

"You're awake," he says as he puts his book down and stretches in his seat.

"Did you rest well?"

"I did, thanks." I answer simply, any details I add would only imply it's because he's here.

"You been here long?"

He smiles slightly, "About an hour. You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you."

I'm not sure why, but something gnaws at me in the back of my mind at his reply.

"Doctor says you can check out tomorrow," He continues, like he's trying to change my train of thought, but his subject change doesn't help much.

I'm terrified of tomorrow now, and what I'm going to do, where I'm going to go.

"If you need a place to stay..." He trails off, his voice that of a polite stranger, not like the ex-vampire love of my life that he is.

The silence stretches like taffy, because I'm relieved and scared shitless at the same time, but I decide hesitantly, to accept his offer. I live in a world of slayers, and yet, I'm alone. There's an, albeit only metaphorically, broken home somewhere in Cleveland, but I can never go back there.

Truth: Where else can I go?

"It wouldn't be for long. Just till I get back on my feet." I reply, deciding there's no need to refuse, or play the part of embarrassment. We're both adults, and I'm mature enough to play this out.

"However long you need. Nina set you up a room already, and she got some things for you too."

**†**

I'm not sure when it happened, when I fooled myself into finding subtext in the barely there text but I did, and now I'm paying dearly for that fact. It's time to check out, and the thought of living under the same roof as them, makes my skin crawl.

Nina comes to the hospital, tall and proud. From the moment he mentioned that they lived together, I've been raking my mind trying to find a way out.

I leave the hospital with them, a shell around my heart as I play the part of the grateful guest and that first night in THEIR home, I sneak out and leave without so much as a look back. Apparently, maturity was an overstatement.

I can't go far though, I'm still in tender shape, and so I check into a cheap motel with the money that I stole from Nina's wallet. I'm not proud of the fact, but I figure once I'm settled somewhere very far away from here, I'll pay it back.

I take my shoes off and carefully curl into bed, my mind churning thoughts and memories of the past month even as I sleep.

It's well into the afternoon when I wake up, my limbs aching from the stiffness of my slumber, and my mostly healed wounds pulsing like static.

I briefly wonder what Angel and (scoff) Nina think about my disappearance. A part of me is disillusioned that he didn't look for me, but I probably did him a favour anyways.

By dinnertime, I'm already out of Los Angeles, the clothes on my back the only luggage I carry.

"Goodbye Angel." I mumble softly when I reach the city's limits.

Forever has never been the point with us.

* * *

A/N: As you can tell, this fic is angst heavy, so much so I feel it necessary to warn you all various times. Haha, thanks for sticking with me, and though its drama heavy right now, at some point there will be a 'happy ending', so to speak.

Angel POV next!

Thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter V

Because nobody likes a vague **disclaimer**: All characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

NOTE: From Angel's perspective, this chapter starts with the three weeks Buffy's out and continues with the following days until she leaves.

* * *

**Chapter V: The Life Still There, Upon Her Hair—The Death Upon Her Eyes**

_from Lenore by Edgar Allen Poe_

**†**

By the fourth day I finally relent. Nina drives me back, and I manage to keep my eyes open the entire way. With Faith and most of the other slayers gone, the ones still here off on their own, Nina and I are left alone in the wreckage of the Hyperion.

"Our room's not too bad actually. There's electricity now, and the hot water stills works." Nina says as she leads me up the stairs.

The girls had done their best to tidy, but the place is nearly in shambles. The fight had taken place so close, there's more than a bit of damage. But i'm too tired to care and as soon as I reach my bed I barely notice when Nina crawls in beside me.

I manage to sleep nearly 24 hours and wake thinking i'd lost half a day when in fact it'd been nearly a day and a half. Having already showered and dressed I'm near ready to burst out the door, but Nina's expression slow down my pace.

"I called the hospital Angel, they say everything is stable now, but her condition is the same."

I turn to her ready to object but she continues instead.

"Look, I'm not telling you not to go, all i'm saying is, nothing's changed with her, but things have with you."

She steps closer, "You've been so busy worried about her you haven't even considered your own needs."

"She's in a coma." I nearly blurt out.

Her expression remains steady.

"And you've just become human. Your body has needs now, and you'll be no use to her if you don't take care of yourself. Have something to eat, real food, and then i'll drive you there myself."

And though I hardly expected to agree with anything she said, I find myself conceding that she has a point, and now that she's mentioned food I can't help but notice the empty feeling in my stomach.

With hesitation, I nod, and walk towards her, "Alright."

"I made spaghetti. I ate already since I wasn't sure when you'd wake, but there's a plate for you. Just have to warm it up."

She smiles softly and when I take her hand she leads me to the Hyperion kitchen. Evidently, she'd done some shopping when she'd left the hospital, and when I catch the scent of the noodles and sauce simmering on the stovetop, and the garlic bread warming in the oven, I find myself appreciating my new found life for the first time since finally getting it.

We sit there in the kitchen, and as I sit next to her, she smiles.

"What?" I ask curious about the quality of her grin.

"It's just, I hadn't really taken into consideration that this is your first real meal. And I made garlic bread."

I return the gesture, but my grin is more of a smirk and I just say, "well it actually smells delicious, so thank you."

"I'm glad I got to be the one to cook you your first real meal. And besides, we better find out as soon as possible whether you like my cooking or not."

I find myself actually grinning, and the thought that i've long since had my first meal fades to the back of my mind.

As I enjoy my first meal as a human, Nina tells me of everything that's happened since she got back, and what happened while I was out.

"And there's a full moon soon. I'm not sure if you've even realized it with everything that's going on."

I don't say anything at first because I hadn't, not that I think she expects me to say anything to it anyways.

"In the basement-"

"I know." She interrupts. "I've already checked it. It's not pretty down there, but it'll do."

My response is a nod, and the air around us goes quiet. It doesn't seem like she's going to continue, and I don't know what to say to her that will make her feel better, so I focus on finishing the food on my plate. After a few minutes of this I hear her exhale loudly and I look back up at her.

She smiles apologetically at me, "I'm sorry. I always get a bit feisty before the full moon. I didn't mean anything by it."

We both know that's not exactly the truth, but there's no use in arguing about it now so I turn to her, and placing my hand on the middle of her back, I nudge her closer.

"I know." I reply, kissing her.

She smiles when I move away, and the tension that'd been simmering in the background is gone.

"That meal was delicious. Thank you."

I grab my plates and take them over to the sink, and as I quickly wash them she tucks everything else away. We leave shortly after and as promised, she drives us to the hospital.

**†**

"Are we ever going back to Rome?"

It's late, and we've only just settled into bed, my eyes haven't adjusted to the dark yet but I turn over to her lying next to me. She's close so I can see the main features of her face. Her expression is a restrained impatience; as if she's been holding in this question for days now.

I try not to be bothered by her obvious indifference for Buffy's well being, since I understand where it's coming from.

"We will." I answer passively, "Once she wakes."

"And if she doesn't?" She asks a little too quickly.

I've been prepared for this question for some time, but I still don't have an answer for it.

"I'll worry about that when the time comes. I've got things I need to take care of here anyways."

As my eyes have adjusted to the dark and I can see her more clearly, I catch her dubious look at my words. She tries to hide it by nodding, but the damage is already done.

"You're welcome to go back at any time Nina."

I regret saying it, but I don't take it back. Instead I look away from her and settle on my side. She doesn't say anything, which isn't like her, and I feel obligated to mend the situation.

Glancing back at her I add, "I'll catch up once I get the situation with the hotel sorted out."

A look of dawning comprehension fills her features, and I realize that she really hadn't had a clue what I'd been talking about. I adjust myself back to tell her what she hadn't caught earlier.

"The building is still mine, but it's a mess. If I hope to sell it, i'm going to have to do some work on it."

She seems relieved, and she almost grins, "I'll help of course."

"I thought you would." I manage to return the smile, though there isn't much heart in it.

**†**

Three nerve wrecking weeks go by before she wakes.

Because of the full moon tonight, I'm here alone and since I can, I hold her hand. I don't know what it means that I want to, because it's over between Buffy and I. Has been for a long time. A part of me will always care for her, my debts to her will never be repaid, yet I'm convinced that the love I once felt for the slayer is as gone as Angelus.

She starts to stir, and her eyes start to flutter and next thing I know she's looking me in the eyes, the nothingness from before still in them. The relief I feel comes out in one word.

"Buffy." I say, but she doesn't speak, and her silence starts to alarm me.

I relax a little when she squeezes my hand, but then her sheer panic at the knowledge of her own well-being sets me on edge again, and because I know what she's thinking, I blurt the first thing that pops into my head.

"This may not mean much to you, but i'm glad you're alive."

But I know they're just words to her.

**†**

"She'll stay with us." Nina says all of a sudden.

We've just left the hospital, and we're on our way to a hardware store to pick up some supplies; up until this moment, the ride had been silent.

"There's a lot of work to be done, and you still need to find a buyer, so it's not like we're leaving anytime soon anyway. Plus, it'll give her some time to decide what she wants to do now."

I'm driving, but I look over at her quickly, actually surprised by her words.

"Are you sure?" I eventually say.

"I wouldn't be saying it if I wasn't."

I take another glance at her, and her expression is apologetic as she continues.

"I know i've been-" she pauses, trying to find the right word, "-_temperamental_ when it comes to her, and I want to make up for that. Besides, maybe she really shouldn't be on her own just yet."

I hadn't expected any kind of admonition of her jealousy, so her words take me by pleasant surprise. I know what kind of concession this is for her, and this is the Nina I fell in love with.

I smile warmly at her, "I'm sure she'll appreciate it, just as I do."

**†**

When it comes time to telling Buffy about her check-out date, she reacts just as I had expected. Because of Nina though I have a solution, something i'd been raking my mind for days trying to find, even before she had said anything.

Surprisingly enough, Buffy agrees without fuss. Sure she goes a little stiff at the mention of Nina, but I think that's more to do with the fact that we'd already planned for her acceptance than anything else.

The next day Nina comes with me, smiling and warm, despite the nerves i'm sure she feels. Buffy's just as equally welcoming but she's a little stiff, undoubtedly due to the nerves of moving into the Hyperion with Nina and I.

At the nurse's insistence Buffy grudgingly sits in the wheelchair provided and the nurse lists off a variety of things to do and remember.

"I'll push Buffy." She says once we're good to leave.

"I can-" Buffy starts to say, but Nina doesn't let her finish.

"Nonsense. That way Angel can be a gentleman and get all the doors." She grins playfully at both Buffy and I.

Buffy returns the gesture but otherwise doesn't say anything.

"It would be my pleasure." I say to fill her gap.

As Nina moves behind the wheelchair, she gives me a look, and I get that she's trying to give Buffy some space by being out of her view. As I move to the door and pull it open, she hangs her purse on the handle then she starts to push.

**†**

When we reach the Hyperion Nina shows her the room we've set up, and we leave her alone so she can get some rest.

It's still early, so Nina and I decide to use the time to resume some of the work we're doing. We manage to coat one of the offices in the main lobby with a layer of paint and start cooking dinner before she appears.

I suspect she hadn't been sleeping the whole time, since she still seems tired when she walks into the massive kitchen.

"Hungry?" I ask her once she's close.

"Yeah." She answers quietly, "It smells really good."

"Right?" I reply with a smile, "I've only recently discovered Nina's cooking but I can say she's a great cook."

"Stop it, Angel." Nina grins back, a slight blush on her cheeks. "It's just your new taste buds in overdrive. Eventually you'll realize it's nothing special."

"I doubt that." I answer simply.

"It's almost ready." She says to Buffy, still smiling.

**†**

The next morning I wake to an empty bed, and I quickly get dressed and head down to the lobby. When I see no one there, I instinctively go to the kitchen, and find Nina sitting at the table alone, her head turned down focused on a newspaper on the table, and a mug in hand.

"Good morning."

She turns to look at me at my words, and replies, "G' Morning." A hint of a smile in her features. "There's coffee in the pot."

I'm already walking towards it when she says this.

"Thanks." I say anyway.

I take a mug, add cream and sugar, and join her at the table. She'd been reading the paper before I sit, but turns to look at me when I do.

"Where did you get the paper?" I inquire before taking a sip of my coffee.

"I woke up early so I went out for a run. I picked it up on my way back. I was going to get some breakfast too, but-"

She hesitates, unsure of how to continue, "I was short. And with- well I decided I'd just make something instead."

There's little information in the addendum of her reply, that I start with my first question, "You were short? But you withdrew money just before we picked Buffy up, how could you be short?"

"Well, that's the thing." She doesn't seem to know how to say it, because she puts her mug down and turns fully to me.

"The only time it was out my possession was when I hung it on the back of Buffy's wheelchair."

The implication is clear, but before I get to react she continues.

"She's gone, Angel."

I can't say I'm surprised but I am tormented, because I'm not sure if I feel sadness or relief at this news. Seeing Nina's face, I know what she feels. However, I can't fault her for this, she had after all, welcomed her greatest insecurity into our home.

"I found this in my wallet."

She reaches across the paper in front of her to a small scrap of paper I hadn't noticed. She passes it over to me, and before I unfold it, I already know what it's going to say.

_I had to, and I'm sorry but I'll pay you back when I can._

_-B_

"It's not your fault Angel," Nina says to me.

"But did you really expect her to stay?"

At a glare from me, she continues, "Don't get me wrong, I know you tried, but some people need to work out things their own way. I don't pretend to know her very well, but I can see the agony she's in, and there's nothing you nor I can do to fix that."

She reaches out to me, placing her hand over mine on the table, in an effort to comfort me despite the fact that how upset I seem probably unnerves her.

"Maybe you're right." I answer, but I know things can't end this way.

Buffy's not prepared to be on her own, and Nina seems to forget that I too have experienced the loss of everyone who matters most.

"But I can at least help her get where she needs to go."

I flip my palm over and grasp her hand, in what I hope will be reassurance after she hears what I'm going to say next.

"I have to find her, I hope you understand."

Nina's following smile is a mask, but I think I see disillusion in her eyes.

"I'll help you." she replies.

* * *

A/N: Ok, so when I said I'd already written this except the ending, I kind of meant Buffy's pov. Angel's side was originally just supposed to be like an addendum to each of Buffy's chapters. BUUUT, I decided it would be more interesting to see things from his perspective as well, and what his relationship with Nina is like, and how it changes. So yeah, the first half of this would have worked better in his previous chapter but i've only just written most of it. My bad.

Anyways, Buffy POV next and as always, thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter VI

Because no one likes a vague** disclaimer:** Most characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.** Rated M for mature content.**

Buffy POV.

* * *

**Chapter VI: Cover Me With White Cold Icy Kisses And Let Me Rest Tonight**

_from Woman Work by Maya Angelou_

**†**

The parched heat of Arizona feels like dry ice on my skin. The sun has consumed this state, like sand in a bathing suit, it's everywhere. As the sweat slides down my neck I can't help but feel like I'm overdosing on it. Warmth reeks of Angel and it only takes me an hour to know that I can't end up here.

Standing outside, my ears are bombarded with the silence, and it's overwhelming. There's nothing like peace and quiet to rouse the evil voices within. But it's late, and my body aches like my wounds once had, so I take up residence for the night. The motel is more shabby than not; the wallpaper peels in places, and the TV is older than me, but the air conditioner blows out delightfully cold air even as it hums. And I've had worse, so I don't mind.

After a couple of hours of lying in bed unable to fall asleep, the weight of the darkness not only all around me, but inside as well, starts to suffocate, so I head outside and sit on a cold cinder bench by the grimy pool. It's dangerously quiet, but my skin doesn't buzz with the forewarning of my foes. The great expanse of this landscape paints anything but life. I think I might have found the one-place vampires don't migrate to, but still I can't stay. It's not far enough.

Arms wrapped around legs tucked in tight, I stare engrossed at the night sky. The moon beams down at me, and I feel solaced by its steadfast presence in my life. It is after all, the only anchor I have left to this world, reminding me of the sole purpose of my existence.

Defend life. Kill. It's all I've ever been good at. I'm suddenly filled with the urge to hunt, to help my stake find its mark, over and over, again and again, until my own heart turns to ash. It's when this thought fills my mind that he shows up. Even as quiet as the night air is, and as distracted as I am, I hear him take a seat beside me. His inability to sneak up on me now is unwelcome, like the rest of him is. I realize in this moment, how naive I'd been in thinking he wouldn't look for me, if at least to end things properly. If Angel was good to me in anything, it was in saying goodbye.

"You didn't have to leave like that, you know."

He says after a moment's pause. His words are masked, indiscernible.

"And you didn't have to come here."

At this, he's silent. I move to stand despite his hand on my own. I can't even count how many times this one action used to succeed in stopping me, nor how often it'd been necessary. I pull my hand away, and as always, the loss of contact is acute. Crossing my arms, and keeping my back to him I stop a few steps away.

"It wasn't supposed to end this way."

His voice is laced with guilt, a feeling that once saddened me now only brings forth disgust. I don't want his pity, nor to be the reason for his penance. There's only one thing I do want, and that's out of the question.

Finally turning to him, I answer.

"Don't you get it? There is no such thing as fate. There are only consequences. This is life, not a fairytale. There is no rhyme or reason to it, it just is."

I walk back towards my room, aware of his silent steps following me inside. Even despite this, the sound of the door closing behind him manages to startle me, mainly because I never wanted to be locked in small room with him ever again. I can't face him, for I fear that if I look into his eyes I won't be able to maintain this illusion of strength that I have going on. I'm a battered and well-read open book to him. No one else has ever known me like he does. I'm sure no one ever will.

"Staying wasn't really an option."

Living with your ex and his new girl never is.

"I understand why you'd think that, but the Hyperion, it's big. Lots of space. It's not like you'd be cooped up with us…"

He stops. I cringe at the suggestion.

"That's not it." I say.

The words are only a partial lie, because it's not the only reason. I turn finally to face him; this is the end that terrifies me.

"We don't fit in each other's lives anymore. Truthfully… We never really have."

"Things are different now."

I feel a cold smile on my face.

"They are." I answer equally icy.

It's different because he's human and the war is finally over, but I'm not the sunshine girl anymore. Darkness is all I have left, the slayer is all that I am.

"But I'm still me."

"What does that even mean?" He asks as he runs his hand through his hair in irritation.

"It means that I don't want to pretend that I'm capable of living some semblance of a normal life, because I'm not. I'm not ok, and I don't want a regular life, not without them."

I pause, and feel the truth bubbling to the surface, something I'd rather not divulge to him, but say anyway.

"We're not friends, remember?"

He storms over to me then, towering over me as he grabs my upper arms with force. My body quivers with desire, and I'm grateful for the loss of his super senses. He opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn't. I think it's perhaps the earnestness and the defeat he undoubtedly sees in my eyes that quiets him. I already made the declaration verbally, it feels senseless to mask myself after that.

"Why are you doing this?" He says so faintly I barely hear it, perhaps not intended for me at all.

His mouth lands on my own barely moments later, and before I know it, I'm pressed against the hard planes of his sculptured form, our tongues entwined, his hands crawling up under the hem of my top. The feel of his rough but tender fingers on my back chases away thought, and I feel nothing but him.

I continue to yield to him, one kiss turning into another, deeper and more intense and when the back of my thighs make contact with the bed, together we tumble onto it. His hands first explore the planes of my stomach, then his fingers brush over the silk of my bra, my breath catching as skin touches skin. Our lips break contact out of necessity as he quickly removes my shirt completely.

I feel a sob welling within me the minute our eyes connect. He can't fool me, and I can't fool myself. I know what this is, and it's not love. It's lust. Passion. Missed opportunities and broken hearts. Closure. Finality. I'm on someone else's time, how well I know it. I want to feel bad about it, but I can't because this is all I'm ever going to get. So I push all of it away, choosing instead to relish in this one night, and kiss him again.

I'm not sure what he's thinking, and frankly I'm too frightened to ask. I don't want to break whatever spell or trance he's in. His mouth then trails down my neck, and I find myself focusing instead on the sensation his lips leave on my skin, warm and hungry all at once.

There is no time for pleasantries nor reserve. We shed each other of our clothes with urgency. Our bodies move in perfect synchronicity, lips on each other in any way or place possible and in the brief moments after I peak there is no death, no pain, no sadness in my heart. It all comes back eventually, and maybe because I'm enveloped in the arms of the only man I've ever loved, it hurts a little less.

No more words are said that night; an unspoken agreement that reality doesn't exist for the time being. I force myself to stay awake, to memorize this moment, tattoo it into the landscape of my mind, let it shield me in moments of despair like a giant umbrella. It's strange to think that this is only the second time we've had sex and the first and probably only time that I'll sleep and wake in Angel's embrace. Eventually, I drift off into what I'll call the best sleep of my life.

When I do wake, I'm filled with dread and delight at the sight in front of me. Angel is lying beside me, his eyes resting on what had been my sleeping form. I reach out to touch him and when he pulls away, at first I don't know why. But the ever-present guilt is in his eyes and I remember the other. The one I'd actually managed to forget.

"I'm sorry..." He starts to say.

I know he wants to apologize for what happened the night before, but not once in my life have I ever regretted the feel of his lips on my own, not even now, when it's finally goodbye. I turn over in my bed away from him and throw my shirt on.

"Don't bother. I knew what this was from the moment you arrived. Now just go."

I pretend not to notice the tears escaping my eyes.

* * *

A/N: Short and sweet. Well, sort of. Angst mostly. Angel POV up soon!

Thanks to everyone paying attention to (and reviewing) this angst-fest, You guys are the best, truly.


	7. Chapter VII

Because nobody likes a vague **disclaimer:** Main character's belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

Angel POV.

* * *

**Chapter VII : To Survive Myself I Forged You Like A Weapon**

_from Body of a woman by Pablo Neruda_

**†**

"I'm here but I'm just going to crash for the night. It's too late anyway."

"I still need to find her Hotel, but it shouldn't take long. No more than four or five places she could be in this town."

"I'll call you in the morning after I see her."

"Love you too Nina."

**†**

If there is one thing I can say with certainty, it's that I've always been aware of the paradox that Buffy and I are. Seeing her the first time, on that clear Californian day, I'd known it as surely as the sun burning my eyes. Buffy was beautiful and golden, and I was nothing more than an unlit demon of the night. It was with the conviction that someone as bright as the sun would never notice a monster like me, that I allowed myself to love her. She did however, and everything went to Hell, myself included.

When I came back, I always knew I'd have to leave her someday. In spite of this, a part of me could pretend that she still needed me, if only to help her with her duty. Slowly though, all the little truths started surfacing, things I could no longer refuse. Even after ending it, I still wasn't sure I was making the right decision, that is, until she nearly died because of me. So I left, to protect her.

Truth: To protect myself.

When I erased that day, and learned of the Shanshu, a part of me was sure that someday I'd hold her again, that i'd be worthy enough to deserve her. And despite all the distance between us, and the lack of time together, the few times I saw her when Sunnydale still stood, I had hope. Even when she asked me to leave, even when I could smell Spike on her skin, and see her love for him in her eyes, I still felt that ever-present love I knew I'd always have for her.

Only, that year with Wolfram and Hart changed me in ways I never thought possible. After Spike's resurrection, Andrew's words, and a long night in Rome, that conviction started to fade into the recesses of my mind. So much happened in the span of that year, I'd already lost Connor, then Cordelia, and I'd strayed so far from my mission I didn't know who I was anymore. Fred's death had been the final strand. When Giles refused to help me, something inside just snapped. Even though I'd been dead for over two hundred years, I finally felt it.

I thought it was really over when we took out the Circle, and it hadn't even occurred to me to call her. But then, there she was somehow. The slayer and her warriors interfering in what was supposed to be my glorious end. Seeing her hadn't brought the feelings I thought would undoubtedly surface. Wesley and Gunn were already lost. I didn't feel grateful nor comforted by her presence; being around her felt like a betrayal to my deceased family. I couldn't even look at her without feeling their deaths all around me.

It wasn't her fault, but I blamed her anyway. I was compounded by remorse for my family and anger towards her and those in her camp, so I treated her with apathy and disdain, and the ocean between us held.

After it was all done, and I remained undead, we went our separate ways and I allowed myself to forget. I fell back into Nina's willing arms, and it wasn't until four years later, when she'd lost it all, that I saw her again.

And now here we are. I'm holding her watching her sleep and I can't help but wonder what the hell I've done. Coming here, I never had any intention of doing this. I wanted to help her, to make sure she would be ok. I wanted to say goodbye.

'So break up sex then ?' I ask myself.

I know how capable I am of that, and I love Nina, so what else could it be? I'm not sure what I'm going to say when she wakes up, I know that no matter what I do say, I'll break her heart. It's what I do best when it comes to Buffy.

She wakes a half hour later, when my guilt has had time to fester, causing me to flinch when she reaches out to touch me. I regret my reaction almost instantly, and want to explain, but truthfully I don't really know what to say.

"I'm sorry.." Is all I manage at first.

"Don't bother. I knew what this was from the moment you arrived. Now just go."

She turns away from me then.

I dress as fast as I can, not looking at her, guilt alone obstructing my view. When i'm done, I turn to her motionless back. I long to hold her one last time, but know how impossible that is. It's never worked for us, I know now it never will.

Silently, I put the package I prepared for her on the bed, giving her the only security I can offer.

"I know you don't want to hear it, but i'm sorry. Last night- I never meant-" I pause.

Obviously there's nothing I can say to make this situation any better, and more words are the opposite of helpful so I just drop the issue all together.

"I'll always be here for you, Buffy. Please, don't forget that." And without another word, I leave.

**†**

After taking a long breakfast (in an effort to kill time truthfully), I make my long trek back to Los Angeles. It's hard to imagine that I was ever a worse monster than I am now. I've done wrong to both the women I love, I've _loved _(I mentally correct myself) in one single act, and yet I feel as if given the chance to do it all over again, I would choose the same thing.

And that thought only makes me [feel] worse.

I fumble with the radio in an effort to distract myself, turning the dial until I find a familiar tune, which in and of it self is no easy task. Luckily it's an early Saturday morning, and the highway isn't busy.

I find a station that plays nothing but classics, and as I lean back I let my thoughts drift off and the music take over, keeping my eyes firmly on the road.

It's when I enter Californian borders that I remember that I have to make a choice. If I arrive home as I am, she'll know. Nina's acute sense of smell will pick up Buffy's scent all over me, and she'll just know. But the thought of actively trying to keep it from her makes me feel queasy. The right thing is to tell her, I know that.

What I don't get is why I feel too chickenshit to do it. So I drive, and let the chips fall as they may. I deserve no better.

**†**

"Nina?" I say loudly as I enter our room.

I'd walked into the Hyperion with little spirit, somewhat prepared for the destruction of my relationship with Nina. But she's nowhere to be found. I even check the basement, but it's empty except the cage, as usual.

She's not here either, but I see a square sheet of paper lying in the middle of the made bed.

_Angel,_

_I went out to run a few errands. Just in case you get home before I do, I left you a plate of food in the fridge. You just have to warm it up._

_I found a working microwave in one of the suites! So you should have no problems ︎:)_

_See you soon, Love you!_  
_Nina_

I feel both relief and regret, but the chips have fallen and I've been given the chance to make my own choice. With little hesitation, I strip and make a pile of my clothes with some of Nina's, to be washed after, and jump in the shower.

She gets home a couple of hours later with some shopping bags in tow, and though I raise a brow, I say nothing of it.

She shrugs in reply, "I took a me day."

I'm sitting in my chair by the window with, as usual, a book in hand. I've barely read a word in the hour that i've been here, so I close my book on the same page i'd opened it.

I manage to smile at her, "No one deserves it more."

"You are right there," She grins back, flopping onto the bed with the bags before her, so as to inspect her goodies.

"So how did it go with Buffy?" She asks casually, taking a brief glance my way.

And then I know, I can't lie to her. She deserves much more than that.

When I don't answer right away, she looks at me once more, her goodies promptly abandoned.

"Not the way I'd hoped," I finally say.

"Nina, I-"

"I don't need to know." She says interrupting me, her voice forcefully calm.

She turns away from me without another glance, focusing on her purchases once more. As she pulls out a light teal bundle of silk, her movements are too precise, and her breathing is too steady, and it's clear.

She knows.

I start to apologize, "I never-"

"Is she where she needs to be now?" She interrupts once more, keeping her eyes busy on removing the tag attached to what I can now tell is a dress.

I can't tell if the question is literal or metaphorical, but in either case the answer is the same.

"She's gone."

* * *

A/N: So someone mentioned in a review that Angel is kind of being not so good, and yeah I agree. I certainly have made him so, as you can tell. I hadn't planned on that, he just came out that way. But thinking about it, when he was a vampire with a soul he had a clear sense of what was right, and what was wrong. But now he's human, and there's no demon and no curse, and life is coursing through him, it makes sense to me, he'd have a hard time with all of it happening at once. Let's not forget who he was _before_ he turned into a vampire. Without the demon, can he really be the same Angel? All I mean is that he's just human, with flaws like anyone else. For so long, he's never put himself first, and now that he can, of course he's all over the place emotionally. And it's interesting juxtaposing how noble he was when he was supposedly a monster, to how he's kind of selfish now that he's human. He is going to learn from his mistakes eventually, but be forewarned, he's going to make his fair share of them in this story.

Ok, sorry for the rant! haha. Buffy next!

thanks again.

Thanks again!


	8. Chapter VIII

because nobody likes a vague **disclaimer:** Main characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon. **Rated M for Mature themes.**

Sorry for the delay. Buffy POV.

* * *

**Chapter VIII: ****Me, I Writhe In Dirty Sheets While Staring At Blue Walls ****And Nothing**

_from Melancholia by Charles Bukowski_

**†**

The urgency to get away puts me in New Mexico by the next night, ironically enough, thanks to Angel. I hadn't seen the package he left on the bed until after I manage to turn and look at the door closed behind him.

I give credit to how well he knows me: he provided me with ID, still Buffy Anne Summers, but I end up dropping the Buffy, and go by Anne instead (Buffy, I'm afraid, is as lost as the infamous needle in a haystack). There's also a grand amount of cash; I suppose he has some left over trust account from Wolfram and Hart, or something. It doesn't matter really. I need the money. And lastly, he left me a phone number. I have no clue why, I'm leaving to get away, not stay in touch. However, its inclusion turns out to be pivotal for me.

I like it in this new place enough that I stay awhile. The mesh of culture, and the surprising forest terrain captivate me at first. I spend the nights of the first few weeks roaming the streets of the city, and though I don't do any actual vampire hunting it starts to feel more and more like i'm patrolling, and more often than not I start ending up at different bars or small pubs, and flirt to get free drinks. At least, it starts that way.

But now, I'm not sure how much I like what direction my life is taking, not that I blame the state, or anyone but myself.

It took me under a couple of weeks to start engaging in drunken one-night stands. Apparently, I'm easily seduced by rugged men. If I were to be completely honest with myself though, I might say that the real reason is because their shades of stubble and sun-kissed skin contrast Angel's still alabaster flesh enough for me to forget, enough to set my skin ablaze at their touch. The connection is only physical though and the walk of shame in the early morning leaves me feeling empty.

I meet him on one such morning. The night before, I'd had one too many and not only was I now kind of hungover, I could feel the pit of loneliness like a knot in my stomach. Distracted the entire way home, I kind of stumble into him just as I turn the corner to my street.

"Sorry." I mumble, barely looking at him as I make to move past.

"I'm not."

His answer catches me by surprise and I turn towards him. He's smiling hungrily as I catch his eye. I can barely avoid the tiny amused grin that slips through my lips when I realize he's trying to flirt with me.

"Is that so?" I manage to make the words sound skeptical.

"Who could come to regret bumping into a beauty like you?"

"Ew." I reply, immediately repelled by his choice of words.

"It's like 6 in the morning, I haven't even had my coffee yet."

He laughs,"My bad."

Then with a mischievous grin he adds, "How about I buy you a coffee then?"

Though i'm tempted by his playful manner and good looks, he's not exactly my type, (he's more clean cut than i'm used to these days), and still covered in the shame and scent of another man, I feel compelled to turn him down.

"Maybe another time." I say with a polite grin and turn away from him.

As I retreat, I hear him say, "I hope so."

Coincidentally, the next time I run into him is at a coffee shop. It'd been a couple of weeks later, and I'm on my way back to the motel from my morning run, when he enters the cafe just as I'm about to exit.

"Well this is rather poetic don't you think?"

I see him before he sees me, so his words don't manage to surprise me this time.

With a shrug I reply, "Small world."

"Next time then?" He says just as I make to move around him. Remembering that I hadn't exactly said no the first time i'd met him, his persistence seems to be doing the opposite of bothering me as well.

"I guess we'll just have to see." I reply without inflection.

To be honest, I'm not sure if i'm going to let him, but the chase is fun, and it's become the best part of my nightly excursions out on the town. I leave then with a playful grin directed at him, and before he has the chance to say anything back.

By the third run-in, it's obvious he's either stalking me or he live's in the area, and when I say so, he laughs with genuine mirth.

"I came on that strong did I?" He answers still grinning.

"You're kidding right?" I scoff back at him.

"What can I say? Sometimes I lose my head around pretty girls. And i'm a Libra, charisma runs in my sign."

I can't help the smile that crosses my face at his words, but I reply, "Jeez, you never stop do you?"

"If it's what you want, then yes." He replies rather seriously.

"I'm a flirt, but I get the meaning of no, all you gotta do is say it. Which you haven't."

"What would be the fun in that?"

He smirks, "Is that a yes then?"

Deciding I rather enjoy flirting with him, and I seem to be running into him far too often to make him conquest material, I answer, "Oh I never said that. You haven't exactly answered my question either yet."

He chuckles again, "I live around here. I can show you my driver's license if it'd make you say yes—I mean feel better."

"It might." I flirt back.

Obligingly, he pulls out his wallet, and passes me his id. He does in fact live close to me, and I only know because I've roamed the many streets around my motel, and I've passed his numerous times. I pass it back to him, seemingly satisfied with this information.

"Feel better?"

"I'm not sure yet. Ask me next time."

The smirk on his face seems satisfied with this reply, like he knows it's just a matter of time, that someday he will in fact get that yes. And more and more, I'm starting to feel it too.

"At least tell me your name then." He says.

"Anne." I decide to tell him more in an effort to get his than to comply with his request.

He extends his hand, and I can tell he's using the opportunity as an excuse to hold mine, but I put my hand in his, and the warmth of his palm extends to my palm and he speaks.

"I'm Cruz."

†

By our fourth interaction, we're near the cafe where we'd had our second encounter, and it's early morning yet again, and I decide to finally accept his offer. We walk together to the cafe, and I find out that he's on his way to work, as he had been that time, and after he buys me the coffee, he gives me his number before he leaves.

"Maybe we can do this for real next time."

A week later I go on my first coffee date with him, and oddly enough all we do is share one kiss at the end of it. Though it's not saying much since I've continued to have other rendezvous at the end of many nights since I first met him.

We go on a few more dates, and though we haven't had done it yet, it's not for lack of trying on my part. He still doesn't know where I live, and wanting to keep it that way for the moment I haven't asked him to come over, but he also hasn't invited me to his place either, even despite how hard I try to get him to.

It's when I turn down a potential suitor, despite the urges I feel coursing through me, that I realize that in some subconscious way i'm trying to stay loyal to him, and the feeling is too akin to actually caring about him, that I decide to finally end the affair.

I take a few shots of Jack Daniel before I head to his place. His address had imprinted into my mind that day I'd seen his license, and it'd be a lie to say I hadn't already been to it.

The building is small and the entrance is deserted, so I walk up the stoop and press down on the buzzer with his name labeled next to it. A few moments go by before the speaker crackles as someone speaks.

"Who is it?" He asks, surprise in his voice.

It's kind of late, and I feel relieved he doesn't seem to be expecting anyone at this hour.

"It's B-Anne." I reply, nearly saying Buffy, and not knowing why. I hope the lack of clarity of the speaker goes both ways, and he doesn't notice the error.

He doesn't seem to as he replies, "Come on up."

The door buzzes then, and I pull it open. I make my way up the two floors to his apartment, where he's standing at the door holding it open, a grin on his face.

"What a pleasant surprise." He says when I reach him.

His back to the door, I plant a wild kiss to his lips. Looking into his eyes after pulling away, I know he's taken the lure, and so I move inside with him trailing after me.

* * *

A/N: Not my favourite chapter, and though I'm not expanding the Cruz 'ship, I felt the story (and Buffy) need him, just for a little longer. Angel next!

Thanks again.


	9. Chapter IX

because nobody likes a vague** disclaimer:** Main characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

This took too long, my apologies. Angel pov.

* * *

**Chapter : Haunted By The Starry Head Of Her Whose Gentle Will Has Changed My Fate**

_from Maud Part XVIII by Alfred, Lord Tennyson_

†

It would be a lie to say that things had remained the same after I told Nina the truth. Our routine hasn't changed, and it's never mentioned, but it always seems to be looming over us exactly because we haven't spoken of it. I wish I could say that i've tried bringing it up, but I haven't, especially since I'm not sure there's anything I can possibly say to make it any better. So it comes as no surprise when Nina declares that she's going back to Rome for a few days maybe a week, to check on what we'd left behind.

She had started a real life after moving there, and had lost more in our sudden departure to L.A. Thankfully, for her in any case, our apartment is still ours because of such a connection, so that's where she'll be staying. We'd been renting to own from a friend of hers who had gotten a job opportunity outside of Italy, and it was being looked after by yet another friend of hers. The money i'd 'earned' while 'working' at Wolfram and Hart has kept us going all this time, she'd gotten a job and contributed what she could despite this. Of course she'd lost it after we'd left, but when I sell the Hyperion, we'll have enough to go on maybe forever.

She finds a cheap flight, and before I know it, we're at the airport, the entire day and trip there mostly silence. It's not until she's about to leave me to go through customs when she wraps her arms around me.

"I just- I really need this." She says softly at my ear, lightly planting her lips on my cheek before pulling away.

She looks me in the eye for one brief moment, then turns away to the entrance behind her.

"I'll call you when I get there."

"Be safe." I manage to reply.

Her lips slide up slightly then she turns to leave, and without much of a line up, she's quickly gone. I feel the empty spot she's left behind like a stake to the heart, and it's funny because the only thing I can think about is her.

The _other_ her.

So before I know it, the car is racing away from the Hyperion and Los Angeles, making its way to Arizona.

* * *

A/N: I haven't had much time to work on this, and it's been so long, so this is just a drabble (sorry for that). I'll be posting Buffy soon though.

Thanks for reading.


	10. Chapter X

because nobody likes a vague** disclaime****r:** Most characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

Buffy POV.

* * *

**Chapter X: The Interrogation Of The Man Of Many Hearts**

_from a poem of the same name by Anne Sexton_

**†**

"Where are you?" Cruz murmurs into the curve of my neck in between the soft kisses he's been planting there.

His name translated in Spanish is cross, and maybe due to the poetic irony of that, I haven't exactly pushed him away. It's moments like this one right now that make me think he sees through the masquerade of my words and actions. He pulls away and looks me in the eye in such a way that I feel more bare than my already naked body makes me feel.

Placing a hand on his face, I respond, "I'm right here."

He moves in to kiss me, and I'm amazed at how easily the lie slips through my mouth and how convincing it is for someone I feel has glimpsed at the real me, to believe it.

I tried to end our thing that night i'd appeared at his house, but it hadn't worked. Somehow it didn't occur to me that he'd have to wake early the next morning, so he'd woken before I had, and then he began kissing me, and his hands were everywhere and my body bloomed under his touch, and then we were going at it and last thing I'd known I was telling him to call me after work.

He resumes his meticulous exploration of my skin; he's already had me twice tonight so he feels no need to rush. But then, something about the tenacity and sensation of his fingers brings the night in Arizona to the forefront of my mind, and the heat of my desire fizzles into nothing. I push him away, and he relents without a fight.

"I have to go." I say suddenly, as I grab my dress from the floor.

I chance a look at him, hoping I haven't hurt him too bad. I don't know what I feel for him, but his impassive yet slightly disappointed face bothers me more than it should.

"I'm sorry." I say quietly, then I throw the dress over my head and snake it on.

Standing, I search for my underwear hoping I don't have to leave them behind. Luckily, I find them quickly enough.

"I'm not him." He says all of a sudden.

My body freezes for a millisecond, but I quickly gain composure.

"Him who?" I ask as if I don't have a clue who he means, and in an effort to emphasize that notion I continue in the duty of preparing myself to leave.

"Whoever, or whatever made you so dead inside."

His words sting, and I know this is the last time I'll see Cruz again.

"I won't leave you." He says.

We lock eyes, and whether he sees something in mine, or doesn't, he adds, "I won't hurt you."

A short bitter laugh erupts from my throat and then I say, "No one can make such a claim, and keep it. Not even you."

**†**

Lying in bed later that night, Cruz's comments churn over and over again in my mind, and I'm overwhelmed by the emotions bubbling in the pit of my stomach. Embarrassed of being so transparent, anger at his guile, sadness at the truth of his words.

His comment about my dead innards repeats in my mind, and it freaks me more than I'd previously thought.

Because I've been here before, and I never thought I'd be here again. But yet, here I am, and it's worse than before because now, I really am alone. No Spike to turn to, no friends and family taken for granted, no one to take me for granted either.

It's cruel irony that in the terror-filled nightmare called my life, only now do I truly grasp the full concept of solitude, of real pain. Well, more pain. And not even the notion of death gives me peace.

I've died twice, but my body is still here. I'm still here.

What is death? For that matter, what is Heaven?

I've been there, and all I can say is that the closest to it I've ever experienced on this Earth is a day that never happened, that exists only in my dreams. I'm not sure when I forgot love, but I haven't felt its sun-kissed touch in years, which is ironic because it was only with a vampire that I ever truly experienced it.

The knock is stark as the sudden sound startles me, and I wonder who it could be since I pretty much never have visitors that I don't bring here myself.

Walking over to the peephole-less door, I ask, "Who is it?"

"Cruz." He replies simply.

I'm weak and so I decide to let him in. It's been about 3 hours since my now broken claim of never seeing him again, and a part of me wonders what he's doing here. While it's true that I like him more than most, it's still not saying much. I'm not sure what he expects, but it'll be easier not having to pretend anymore.

I open the door wide, the sly smile on my face morphing into surprise when I see that it's not Cruz at all.

"Who the hell is Cruz?" He asks darkly as he storms in with misplaced ownership.

"What the hell kind of name is Cruz anyways?"

"Excuse me... did anyone invite you in? And point two: so not your business. And ps. It's a great name."

I don't know why I stand up for Cruz, but I know why it pleases me so to see Angel acting jealous. But I quickly remember that it can't be much more than a continuation of his misguided sense of sympathy or duty to me. But pretending is better than the truth.

He's unresponsive to my words, and we stand in awkward silence for a few seconds.

"What are you even doing here?"

I finally break the quiet, desperate to know why he intends on smashing what little I have left of myself. Does he not understand what seeing him does to me?

"Who is he?" he asks in response, ignoring my own question.

I roll my eyes and walk away from him further into the hotel room that has become my living quarters. It's not my home, I firmly believe that a home is somewhere you belong, and I lost that a long time ago, even though technically, it still stands. But I can never go back there. Even despite the fact that my car is currently parked there (something that would make my life a lot easier, if i'm being honest with myself).

Although there is a chair in the room, I sit on the bed. I'd rather Angel not sit where I share myself with men other than him. He closes the door behind him, but only moves into the room a few steps and remains standing.

"Not my History tutor, that's for sure." I answer finally.

I'm sure he gets the reference, but little to no reaction is evident on his face. Just the icy brood he always carries.

"How do you even know about him if you don't know who he is?" I ask.

He smiles seductively dark at me, "Message at the front desk."

I raise an eyebrow at him, and he continues, "Quality service." his voice nothing but biting cynicism.

"The Hilton was all booked up." I respond with equal amounts of sarcasm, it's not like I'm swimming in cash here.

"So, not that I'm not enjoying the dejavu trip, but would you mind telling me what you're doing here?"

I'm not sure how many goodbyes he thinks I'm capable of making.

"I haven't heard from you since... and I guess I just wanted to make sure you were ok."

He seems genuine in his admission, and it's this that hurts most. I realize that the phone number had been his way of asking me to remain in touch. But what's the purpose of extending the life of a connection that's already dead and long gone?

"You could have just called."

He found me easily enough, so it's not silly of me to assume he has my number as well. The same tone as before remains in my voice, and he flinches slightly at the bitterness in it.

"What Angel? What did you think you'd find when you got here? A happy-go-lucky Buffy sitting waiting patiently for you? What part of 'we don't fit in each other's life anymore' did you not understand?"

I don't mention our last night together as some things are better left unsaid. I stand then, the anger fuelling me on.

"I worry-" He starts to say, and that word only angers me more.

"About me? Well you don't have to. I can-"

"Take care of yourself? Ya I know..." He steps closer to me, and with obvious sarcasm signals around the room and then points to the note still in his hand, "looks like you're doing a great job of it."

I don't explode like he probably thinks I will, instead I close myself off, my face and body as rigid as a wall.

"Yes, I live in a shitty motel in a dirty little town and I sleep around, but I never asked you to fix me. I don't need your pity Angel. I know what life you expected me to have, but it's time for you to wake up. This is the life I was meant to live."

I walk past him to the door then, open it and turn to look back at him.

"Alone. Now please, go back to your white picket fence life, and leave me in peace."

I don't mask myself, so I'm sure it's the earnestness in my eyes that motivates him to walk towards me and the door.

Our eyes lock for a brief moment, and then he's gone.

* * *

A/N: Another shortish chapter, but things are finally starting to go where I want them. Angel next! (and soon hopefully)

Thanks again to everyone!


	11. Chapter XI

because nobody likes a vague** disclaime****r:** Most characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

Angel POV.

* * *

**Chapter XI: One World Was Not Enough For Two, Like Me And You.**

_from Her Voice by Oscar Wilde_

**†**

I make it all the way to Arizona only to find out she'd long since checked out, and was probably well out of state limits. Thanks to the the skills I still have, and the smallness of the town, finding her next destination turns out not to be too difficult. So a couple of hours later I continue my trek east, and I can't pinpoint it exactly, but something akin to anticipation stirs under my skin as I drive to New Mexico.

I'm not sure what my intentions are, I only know that I need to see her. To make sure she's alright, or at least that's what I'd told myself. But when the greasy man behind the front counter hands me the message to give to Buffy, and I see the note, my mood darkens drastically. I storm to her room, barely containing the jealousy(?) I feel brewing inside.

But as it turns out, her words are a reaffirmation of how over we really are. I think of Nina's words months ago. I feel as if every conversation we've had since I returned to earth has always lead to the same place.

But it's the look in her eyes that cements it for me. It's not my job to save her.

The long road back to Los Angeles is interrupted by a call from Nina, and thankfully i'd only just parked the car at an empty rest stop when the phone rings.

"Angel."

"Nina." I say, and I don't know why saying it like that seems to bother me so much.

"How was your flight?"

"Long."

Her voice sounds heavy as she speaks, and I remember that she's never been fond of flying.

"It was ok though. Paola picked me up at the airport, so that was great."

She already sounds happier than she has in a long time, and I know i'm not gonna have the guts to tell her where i've been. I'm beginning to think that the man I was before the turn, never left after all.

"That's nice of her. How's she doing?" I hear myself ask.

She begins regaling me with all the news she'd heard from her friend, and I try hard to pay close attention to everything she's saying.

"The apartment is good. There was a leak, but Paola had it taken care of. Luckily she dropped by just after it happened, so there wasn't much damage. Other than that, our abode is safe and secure."

She seems to be finished, and I can't seem to find the rights words to follow up with. Just as I'm about to say the first thing that comes to mind, she speaks first.

"What've you been up to?"

Her voice sounds genuinely curious, and I lie.

"Not much really. I picked up some supplies I needed, but by the time I got home it was late, so I read a little."

"I take it you just woke up then." She replies teasingly.

By her tone, it's clear she doesn't seem to have any doubts on what i've been up to, and the guilt feels like a pit in my stomach.

"I'll start in a bit. I'll have the lobby done by the time you get back." I say trying to sound invested in the idea.

She's suddenly tense, "Well, i'm sure you're itching for your morning coffee, and I'm meeting a couple friends for dinner soon. I just wanted to check in, let you know i'm safe and sound."

"I'm glad you did." I answer simply. "Have fun tonight."

"I'll call again soon. Love you."

She hangs up before I get the chance to say it back.

I end up spending the rest of the trip home contemplating our conversation, and why she'd gone so stiff at the end of it. The juxtaposition of my thoughts before and after that call do not go by unnoticed, and by the time I reach Los Angeles, I end up driving directly to the hardware store and buy everything I'd lied about, probably in an effort to assuage the familiar feelings of guilt and self loathing.

For the next three days, I busy my mind with the task of repairing the lobby, and by the time I'm done, I've managed to convince myself that my trip to Buffyland was nothing more than the closure I needed to end everything she and I ever were.

I realize now, this is the way it's supposed to be.

* * *

A/N:Yeah, so Angel is kind of an idiot. But don't worry, that'll all change soon. Another short chapter but this will be the last, that's a promise.

Thanks again for everything, especially putting up with slow updates. Buffy next!


	12. Chapter XII

because nobody likes a vague** disclaime****r:** Most characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.** rated M for Mature themes.**

Buffy POV.

* * *

**Chapter XI: There Is Something Wrong With Me Besides Melancholia**

_from Melancholia by Charles Bukowski_

**†**

It takes me exactly an hour before I decide it's time to move on again. Even though he's human now, and I no longer sense him, this room stinks of Angel. Besides, I never intended on staying here forever, and now is as good a time as any to leave. I pack the few things I have, take one last look at the room, of all the things I've done here, only the few moments shared with him are what plays in my head.

I board a bus to Tulsa, Oklahoma. There is no guiding force behind my decision, I choose this destination simply because it's the first one available. I don't know much about the place other than it's supposedly the birthplace of route 66.

Ten hours later, I'm in a city larger and more beautiful than expected, and the bustle of life makes me feel more alone. Regrettably, I think of how much Dawn would have liked it here. I think of Xander, who'd definitely appreciate the architecture of this place.

I close my eyes, a reaction more than a habit, and use my growing ability in shutting emotion off to force the thoughts away. I focus instead on finding an affordable place to stay at.

After about an hour, I find a small quaint hotel on a quiet street, stuck in between a dry cleaners shop and a small convenience store. The price works out pretty well, but I realize that I'm going to have to find a job sometime soon.

My room is nicer than the one I had in Las Cruces, a bit smaller but with a lovely large window overlooking the street. The furniture is antique and my bed squeaks a bit when I sit on it, but it all makes me feel like I've stepped back through time into a 1930's musical. I lie down with the window open and the sun streaking my face through the lace curtains, and fall asleep.

It's dark outside when I wake up again, and for the first time in a really long time, my skin itches with desire for a good slay. The night has cooled some, so I throw on a light jacket and stick a stake up my sleeve and head out the door.

I kill my first vampire in over two months, and the sense of wholeness I get from doing it doesn't go unnoticed. I continue patrolling in the hope that I'll encounter more enemies and feel the emotion once again. A couple of hours go by until I do, and the second kill is less fulfilling than I had expected it to be. When my stomach rumbles for a hot meal, I decide my slayer duties are finished for the night.

I satisfy my hunger with a fast food burger, opting to skip the strange looks I sometimes get when I go to restaurants alone. After everything that has happened to me, pity boils my blood no matter who dishes it out.

Walking back to my hotel, still feeling unsettled, I catch glimpse of a small bar. Not shabby exactly, but for some reason it reminds me of Willy's bar, with its dim lighting and few customers. I can't resist and so I go inside.

I sit at the bar and order a beer. I'd been tempted to order a shot of Jack upon seeing the bottle on the wall behind the bar, but decide against it. I know the moment the amber liquid touched my mouth I'd be forced to think of Spike. Spike who died twice for my mission. For me.

"Looking for some company?" I hear a masculine voice beside me say.

I sigh slightly, why do men always think that a girl sitting by herself is an open invitation to be hit on? I turn to look at him ready to turn him down, when I see a tall man with dark hair and equally dark skin staring back at me. I smile inwardly, and how these types of men always seem to find me now. As if they know of my weakness towards them.

I motion to my drink and say, "I found some, thanks."

He chuckles at my comment and I add, "But I guess you're welcome to join."

"I'm Shane." He says, taking a seat next to me.

"Anne." I reply simply.

By last call, I'm wobbly on my feet, my cheeks are tinted red, and my body is warm with alcohol and desire. Shane places his hand on my lower back as he leads me outside, walking as close to me as he can. I don't mind because I want him as much as he wants me. I have no doubt about it.

"Do you want to take me home?" I ask coyly the minute we step out.

His lips curl upward, and I know he knows what I'm really asking. There is no hesitation or timidity as I proposition him. I haven't been shy about sex since Spike; after everything I did with him, I never will be again.

His grin gets wider, "I'm only 2 blocks away."

He replies, and with the hand on my back pulls me to him. He kisses me then, forcing his tongue into my mouth, his one hand traveling south down the curve of my back, his other traveling north under my shirt. I push him away before he makes contact with my bra, because although I'm quite open about all this, I would rather not get felt up at 3am in the middle of the street. His shock diminishes when he catches glimpse of my face and the smile on it.

"You're only 2 blocks away, I think you can contain yourself till then," I say.

"It'll be worth the wait, I promise."

He kisses me again, more gentle this time, "What are we waiting for then?"

Ten minutes later, and Shane is fumbling with his keys and I can sense his urgency. It's the level of want in him that leads me to have these one-night conquests. I enjoy feeling desired and wanted so completely, if only for a few hours.

I place myself between him and the door, running my hands up his chest and when I look up at him, I see fire in his eyes seconds before his lips descend onto my own. The door is open all of a sudden and I find myself pinned between his warm body and the wall behind me.

Hours later, physically sated and emotionally empty, lying in Shane's arms, I think of Angel, and wonder what he's doing in this moment.

I wake the next day, my head pounding loudly in my ears, in a room I don't immediately recognize next to a man I hardly know. He's sleeping next to me, and as quietly as I can, I get out of his bed. Even though he seems like an ok guy I don't want him to find me here.

My first one-night stand long ago had made me feel cheap, but now I just want to avoid the possibility of him trying to initiate more than I'm willing to give, or the inevitable awkward goodbye. I steal a last look at my temporary lover, then leave.

* * *

A/N: So this was originally a longer chapter and I know I said no more shorties, but I need to end it here. Sorry bout that. Next chapter up soon!

Thanks for reading.


	13. Chapter XIII

because nobody likes a vague** disclaime****r:** Most characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

Soon turned out to be an overstatement. Sorry bout that.

Guest POV (one time only): NINA!

* * *

**Chapter XIII: For Sullen-Seeming Death May Give More Life To Love Than Is-**

**Or Ever Was.  
**  
_from Maud part xviii by Alfred, Lord Tennyson_

**†**

From the moment I hear the beat of his heart, I can't help but wonder if it's me who's standing in the way.

Despite the fact that they hadn't exactly ended on good terms, it was obvious from the moment we saw Buffy in that crumbling office, that she was still in love with him. Seeing them together for the first time, it became clear that while Angel loves me, there's a past between them (a past I'm far too familiar with), and a part of him will always belong to her. I can't say i've ever really pretended otherwise.

So the morning after she runs and he tells me he's going after her, in my gut, I know it'll happen. I feel it. When he comes clean about it though, I realize that sensing it and knowing it, are two very different things. Of course, he barely says a word, but I know what he means, and there's no point in the how because it won't change anything but me.

Presumably, he fell into her undeniably welcoming arms, and even though I'm sure she had no intention of letting him go, he's come back to me and I know it must have been him who did the leaving.

And so, I cling to that.

"She's gone."

I only wish it were true.

The following days I feel her on his skin, and there's space between us, and the not talking about it isn't helping, and I don't know what to do. I want to say as much, but I can't.

The next time I check in with Paola back in Rome, it all finally comes gushing out. I've known her nearly as long as we've lived there, and I've always been able to confide in her. She doesn't condemn him like I expected she would, she only asks me three questions.

"Can you forgive him?"

The first, an easy answer. "Technically, I already have."

"But have you?" She counters back.

This time, I'm not sure how to respond. Because I do understand why it happened, and I know who he is. His self-sacrificing nature got him his life back, but he can be blindsided by the weight he carries on his shoulders. Even now, when it's only her. And that's the crux of it: he put _her_, before _us_.

When I don't reply, she asks her last question.

"Do you still love him?"

I think I know where she's going with this, so it takes me a few moments to speak, even though I know the answer as soon as she asks it.

"I do."

She seems to sense this, and after a few seconds she says, "You need to let him figure out where it is he wants to be."

And I know that she's right, so I do the only thing that comes to mind: I put some actual distance between us. I use the excuse of checking on our life in Italy, and unsurprisingly, he doesn't challenge the decision.

When he drives me to the airport I can't finds words to say to him, I can hardly look at him, even though I know that this could be the end of our relationship, the last time I'll know he's mine.

When we're standing in front of the gate, it finally hits me and I wrap my arms around him, breathing in his familiar scent and feeling the warmth of his embrace.

And then, I break. The truth comes out in one small sentence.

"I just- I really need this."

I hold him for a second more, and kiss him on the cheek because it's all I can manage, and then I pull away. I force myself to look at him, and as he gazes at me I can see both his guilt and his love, but it's too much, and I turn away.

I throw out some common response, and he does too, and then I'm gone.

**†**

Being back in Rome ends up being a lot easier than I expected. I felt dread at returning to an empty apartment, worried that seeing our old life would hurt considering we may never get back to it.

Thankfully, Paola seemed to know this and we arrive to a full house, complete with a boastful Italian "Sorpresa!" I fall back into my friendships with ease, and it's not until my friends leave that I remember to call Angel.

I can already tell the space between us has done us some good as the call starts out friendly and light, and it actually feels like he's invested in our conversation, like he's actually missed me.

I ask him what he's been up to, and I'm pleased to find out he's being diligent about finishing the renovations on the hotel. The sooner he's done, the sooner it can be sold and we can resume our old life, albeit a little different now that he's human.

"I'll have the lobby done by the time you get back."

He says then, and suddenly everything I'm trying to forget comes rushing all at once, and I realize in that second that i'd been unconsciously hoping there would be no need for me to return, because he'd hurry here to me.

I make up some lie about dinner and tell him I love him, but I hang up before he can say it back.

**†**

My first week abroad is full of errands, visits and friendly outings. I take long walks in my free moments, and it's on one such occasion that I run into my old boss. We get into talking, and I apologize for leaving as I had, telling him there was some family emergency back in the US. He says it's alright, and asks me if I'm back for good now. I'm not sure how to answer at first.

"Hopefully." I say, leaving it at that.

He seems to understand, and offers me my old job back if I am.

"You let me know, whenever you know."

The weight of this conversation hangs about me, and the next time Angel and I speak, I can't help but mention it.

"Joe offered me my old job back. Seems he can't find anyone to fill my shoes."

I keep my tone light, as if i'm talking about the weather or something.

"What did you say?" He asks, almost too casually.

"I thanked him for the offer. But that's it."

He doesn't say anything for a second, and I don't know why it feels like I have to prove to him that I hadn't accepted.

"So you didn't say no then?" He asks then, sounding as if he already knows he's right.

His tone fuels me on.

"Why would I? The point is to come back to Italy at some point or isn't it anymore?"

He doesn't reply at first, and I keep my mouth shut so I don't say something I'll regret.

"You're right." He eventually says, his voice acquiescent, "I didn't mean anything by it-"

"You did. But it's not important." I interrupt him. I know him better than he thinks.

"Ok fine, I did." He admits, "But not for the reason you think."

In fact, I already know what his reason is; he's referring to this so called 'crush' he thinks my boss has for me. His jealousy rouses from the fact that Joe isn't much older than me, and working at his art gallery, we have a lot in common.

"No, I get it. Joe is just a friend, I've said this many times."

What I'd reproached him for, that was my issue. I only wish his jealousy made me feel anything but the irritation I feel at it right now.

"Not if it was up to him."

He teases back, obviously unaware of my mood. What he says doesn't help either. I know that it means it's up to me, so if I said yes what? Angel would just step aside? Is that what he wants me to do?

With a bitter feeling in my gut I realize something; me leaving would be the easy way out for Angel. Without the guilt of breaking my heart, the road back to her would be clear, and painless.

"Well it's a good thing it's up to me." I say dauntlessly.

The silence turns stiff at my response, and with weariness I add, "well it's getting late, and I have a big day tomorrow."

It's not exactly true, but I'm suddenly very tired of this conversation.

"Ok, i'll call you tomorrow night. Get some rest."

**†**

As the days go by, I start to feel Angel's absence more and more. I'm alone in the apartment more often then not now, and when I call him or when he calls me, we have less and less to talk about, and I can feel our relationship quickly slipping away. And though I know I'm supposed to let him come back of his own volition, I realize I'm not willing to lose him without a fight.

And so, after a few weeks, I finally decide it's time to go back.

I'm not sure why, but I don't tell him of my return. Instead I book my flight, ask Paola to watch my place for a little longer, and commute my way back to the Hyperion after I land at Los Angeles International.

It's dark when I arrive, and I take a few moments to appreciate all the hard work he's done in the lobby.

"Angel?" I call out, but there's no immediate response.

I make my way up to our room and when I enter I can hear the shower running. After another long flight i'm desperate for a rinse, and I think of joining him, but I go to the small kitchenette instead, and proceed to make some omelettes, suspecting he probably hasn't eaten yet.

They're nearly done by the time he comes out, an expression of near disbelief on his face when he sees me. He's clad only in a robe, and drying his hair with a towel so he doesn't immediately realize i'm there, and it's still strange to be able to catch him unaware.

"Surprise." I say softly, trying hard to force my lips up into a smile.

"You're back." He replies, returning the gesture with more mirth than I manage to muster myself.

He walks over to me, hanging the towel on the back of a chair as he passes the small dining table. I take the eggs off the burner and set them aside. As I turn he's already before me and nearly a second later he's wrapping his arms around me and I do the same. His skin is still warm from the shower, and although his familiar scent surrounds me and the feel of his embrace is the same, I don't experience the solace I once did when he held me.

I pull away a second sooner than he probably expected, and when our gazes connect he seems surprised. Consequently, I turn to the eggs on the cold countertop burner and say, "I made omelettes. I figured you probably haven't eaten yet."

It takes a few seconds before he loses the expression and replies, "You figured right."

He seems to be moving in to kiss me and for some reason I panic.

"Well, while you get dressed i'm gonna freshen up a little."

He stops, the look of alarm on his face once more as I step back from him, but he manages a small nod before I turn away and nearly run to the bathroom to escape.

I close the door behind me, suddenly alone in the hot steam left from Angel's shower. I splash a little cool water on my face and when I catch sight of my expression I wonder why i'd freaked the way I had. I want to say it's the distance, and maybe the pain of what had happened between him and Buffy, but the truth is that things are different between us now. Whatever our relationship had been before is gone.

By the time I leave the bathroom, I realize that if this is going to work, we're going to have to start over. Again.

Dressed in a ribbed tank and a pair of sweats, Angel is setting the table when I return and it's not until we're both sitting that either of us speaks.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" He asks.

I wait for him to take a bite of the omelette before I answer. I use the moment to figure out what to say because it seems obvious I didn't tell him I was coming because I actually did want to surprise him. I needed to know for sure that she's out of the picture.

"I already told you, I wanted to surprise you. And with all the work you're doing, I thought I'd save you the drive."

As I speak, he reaches for the salt and pepper and adds both to his dish.

"I could've picked you up, it's hardly a hassle at all."

"Well so is taking transit." I answer, digging into the eggs on my own plate.

There's a small moment of silence as we both leave it at that.

"How was your flight?" He eventually speaks first, again.

It feels like he's asked me this question too many times, and I'm starting to wonder if he really wants to know or if he's just using the question to move the conversation towards me. And so I keep my reply short and simple.

"Long, as usual. Uneventful, at least."

He doesn't say anything, only the sound of our forks scraping along the plates filling the air. This time he doesn't ask me anything to break the quiet that's formed.

As the silence extends, it's clear we're not off to a very good start.

**†**

Even when Angel lies beside me in bed quietly reading a book, he feels miles away. I can't help but realize how deteriorated our relationship has become. It's been weeks since he's really touched me, and there is always something hidden in his eyes when he kisses me. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep up this lie, this charade of a relationship.

I wish he'd admit it to himself, admit it to me so I can move on with my life. I love Angel, like I've never loved anyone else, but I'm beginning to see that it simply isn't enough.

But then he looks at me and smiles, and it's genuine enough that I reach out and pull him close, planting a soft kiss on his lips. When he returns the kiss, and wraps his arms around me, I push all my doubts aside for now. These moments are rare, when it feels like he's actually here with only me.

And they're fleeting at best.

**†**

The phone rings twice before I wake up enough to answer it.

"Hello?" I mumble groggily, feeling Angel stir beside me as I do.

"Who is it, Nina?" he asks sleepily.

There's a sudden intake of breath before I hear the line disconnect. The loud beep beep of the dial tone cuts in before I hang up the cordless in my own hand.

"I don't know. They hung up."

He's suddenly more alert as I feel him sit up and ask, "Did you recognize the number?"

I feel a pinch in my heart at his words.

After a moment, I pass him the cordless phone forcefully, and get out of bed.

"Here, check for yourself. I'm going to the bathroom." I say, leaving the room with my shoulders slumped.

All this time, there's been no mention nor innuendo of her, and though I don't feel her presence the way I had before, she's still here. And not only do I finally understand why that is, I have the answer to the question that's been gnawing at me since Angel's heart first began pumping.

He's not mine. He never was.

**†**

* * *

A/N: So this was originally just gonna be a drabble, just a peak into Nina's point of view. In the original draft of this story, there's no trip to Italy for Nina, but when I added that in I realized this chapter needed to explain how she came back to L.A. So it's longer, and a little choppy at the end. My apologies.

But anyway, this will be her only POV, and we'll pick up with Buffy next. And soon, since it's basically already written.

Thanks again for following and reviewing!


	14. Chapter XIV

because nobody likes a vague** disclaime****r**: Most characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

Buffy POV.

What you need to know: I posted this and realized it had some issues, so I deleted it. But here it is now, for real this time. Sorry bout that.

* * *

**Chapter XIV: And My Eyes Cannot Hold The Tears That Memory Hoards From Vanished Years**

**For Time And Death And Mortal Pain Give Wounds That Will Not Heal Again**

_from I See Around Me Tombstones Grey by Emily Brontë_

**†**

I'd almost considered staying in Tulsa permanently because I foolishly convinced myself that this was the start I had been looking for, until the night everything went wrong, and reality slapped me in the face, as it usually tended to do.

I'd found a job at a cafe, and from my experience with waitressing jobs it was a lot better than working a dinner. For one, the hours were better. The place closed at five, and with the morning and lunch rush, the tips weren't bad.

My evenings in Tulsa start out typically enough; I run my usual patrol, though the enemies are few and far between, and head for my usual after-slay drink at whatever bar seems appropriate for my mood. More nights than I'd like, when I'm pleasantly numb from the alcohol, I don't go home alone.

Tonight though, my mind is on other things, like the man in tweed I had accidentally bumped into that afternoon; who apologized gently and when I looked into his glass covered eyes, I only saw Giles.

From the moment I lost my family, I've worked hard at keeping thoughts of them from my mind. I find it's the only way I can manage to go on. And when that doesn't work, I let the alcohol distract me from a pain that isn't getting any easier to bear.

So this night, I head into the closest pub I find, even though it's seedier than I usually choose, and try to drown the memories swimming in my head. Three drinks in, an older man who reeks of cigarettes and undresses me with his eyes, hits on me. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel shame.

I decline his offer to buy me a drink, but he doesn't let up. He continuously hints at my promiscuity, as if he knows of my almost nightly rendezvous'.

I'm not sure exactly why this stranger's words affect me so. Perhaps it's the realization that if he were maybe 10 years younger, and on any other night, I might have gone home with him despite my initial assessment.

Tonight though, all I can think of is what Giles would think of me. The last straw is when he places his hand on my knee, and I'm momentarily infused in a sea of self-loathing.

"Leave. Me. Alone." I say darkly, a hint of menace in my eyes, as I shove his hand away.

Over ten years of being the slayer ensures that not another word needs to be said. Seconds later, I continue drinking myself into oblivion, allowing the once avoided thoughts of my family to fill my mind.

When I leave, I'm lost in a haze of Jack Daniels and bittersweet memories. I yearn for my mother's comforting embrace, Giles' strength, Dawn's gentleness, Xander's unyielding faith in me, Willow's support, and Spike's insight. By the time I get back to my room, the imaginary dam keeping me together no longer exists. This town is lost to me now, and minutes later tears stain my clothes as I pack them away.

I think then of the only person I know who's all the things I love about my family, who wouldn't need to say a word for me to feel better again. Searching through my purse, I pull out the small piece of paper, and enter the 10 now barely legible numbers on the hotel phone.

It rings three times before I realize what time it is. I'm about to hang up when I hear muffled sounds on the other end. I smile slightly despite the tears still streaming down my face.

"Hello?" A woman's voice still in the throes of sleep asks.

Then faintly, I hear a groggy, "Who is it, Ni..."

I hang the phone up as though it burns, before the last word is finished being said. I hate the alcohol for a moment then, for making me so stupid.

I curl up in a ball on my bed, unable to leave the safety of my room until the darkness is gone. I weep for all that I've lost, all that's happened, for who I've allowed myself to become.

**†**

The next morning, I manage to get on the next bus out of Oklahoma. Ironically enough, it's heading to Cleveland. It seems like a sign, after last night and the breaking of my dam, it's no wonder I have to face the last demon that plagues me.

Every minute is spent in dread, my instability so great that most everyone leaves me alone. It takes far too long to reach my destination, and when I do, I feel the energy of the Hellmouth pulsing under my feet.

It's been almost a year since I've been here, but I find the school easily enough. Again, memories assault me and part of me regrets coming to a place where my family lived, and where I could have experienced some semblance of happiness if only I hadn't run.

I realize then, that there is no real reason to go into the school, there is nothing left there for me. I'm still a slayer, but I've never been one of _them_. And besides, there is nothing left of my family there either.

Half an hour later, I'm standing in front of the place I once briefly called home. Everything looks like it did before, the strange flowers Willow planted without magic still blooming in the front yard. Instinctively, I know this is Angel's doing. He's safeguarded this house, just for me.

I walk up the porch steps, my arms wrapped around my waist in the hope to keep from falling apart. I reach for the top of the doorframe and feel around until my fingers touch metal. I pull the key down, unlock the door and gingerly step inside the threshold.

The fidelity of the place fills me with despair. Everything is exactly as I saw it last, albeit covered with a layer of dust.

Dawn's book bag by the entrance... Willow's magicks littered across the dining room table, remains of that last spell... Xander's thoughtful renovations within the house… Giles' tea set in the kitchen, the picture of classic British elegance...

It all hits me like a punch in the gut, sucking the air from my lungs. Artfully avoiding Giles' corner, I reach for my own. In the back of the pantry under the sink, I pull out a bottle of amber liquid, three quarters full.

Walking towards the kitchen table, something rectangular and black catches my eyes. I stare at it for long moments, tears pooling, until finally, I hesitantly reach out and pull it off the wall. My eyes linger on the picture encased as I move to sit down at the table. Eyes still occupied, I open the bottle and take a swig, the tears finally overflowing.

I've never felt as hollow as I do now. They're all I've ever known of real love, but it's gone just like they are, and I'll never get it back.

* * *

A/N: Last chapter I said Buffy next, but I was toying with the idea of inserting Angel's drabble and _then_ her chapter, thats why this update took so long. I ended up with Buffy after all, and Angel will be next. There's some overlap in his chapter, which is why I was going to start with him, but I think it works best this way. Anyway, Angel next.

As always, thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter XV

Because nobody likes a vague **disclaim****er****:** Characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

Angel POV.

What you need to know: This picks up right where Nina's chapter left off.

* * *

**Chapter XV: False Love, Desire, And Beauty Frail, Adi****eu. ****Dead Is The Root Whence All These Fancies Grew.**

_from A Farewell To False Love by Sir Walter Raleigh_

**†**

I wake to the sound of the phone ringing, and Nina reaching over to pick up the cordless at her side. Though I'm still in the throes of sleep I manage to ask her who's calling when I quickly register the lateness of the hour.

"I don't know. They hung up."

I feel a jolt go through me at her words as I instinctively know who it is, and as relief fills me I suddenly realize just how much i've felt her absence these past two months.

hardly able to avoid it, I sit up quickly and ask, "Did you recognize the number?"

When she doesn't immediately answer I realize the error in my actions. She nearly throws the cordless at me before getting out of bed.

"Here. Check for yourself. I'm going to the bathroom."

Without another word she leaves the room and considering the damage is already done, I hit *69 on the phone and as it dials, I watch the bathroom door.

After two rings, an unknown voice says, "Las Palmas Inn, how can I help you?"

I lose focus of the door as I quickly turn towards my own nightstand and jolt down the address being narrated to me on the other end of the line. I say thanks then, and push on the end button.

"It was her, wasn't it?" Nina says from behind me, resignation in the tone of her voice. Turning to face her, I nod.

"What did she say?" she asks stiffly.

Seconds tick by before I admit self-deprecatingly, "I didn't ask to be put through."

"So not to scare her off."

She sees through my words, and I suddenly remember that Nina always knows what I'm really saying.

"She's probably..." I start to say, but then she cuts me off.

"I don't need to hear it, just go. But I won't be here when you get back Angel."

I walk over to her, but at her outstretched palm, I stop a few feet away.

"I think it's time you stop lying to me, to yourself, that you're not still in love with her."

I open my mouth to speak, but she continues.

"I've always known that your heart belonged to her, I just thought maybe someday that'd change, but I know now, it won't. I can't pretend anymore that when you go to her, it's just worry and duty that leads you there. I know some part of you loves me, Angel. Just not as much the rest of you loves her. And I deserve more than that. "

Nina walks up to me, places a hand on the side of my face, "I don't blame you Angel, nor her. I'm just sorry I stood in the way for this long."

I want to speak so badly, but I know that she doesn't want to hear my voice, so I kiss her for the last time instead.

I leave Nina with a sorrow in my heart, a disdain at myself for hurting such a wonderful woman. But her words finally knock some sense into me. How had I been naive enough to think that what I had with the blonde slayer was all in the past? Her pain had always been my own, and I understand now the reason her out in the world plagues me so. I still want to shelter her heart from all the horror in her life.

I drive as fast as I can into the night, to her.

I reach the Inn knowing full well that she won't be there anymore, and I'm not disappointed. She checked out that morning, and so I head to the next logical place, the bus station. I use my decades of experience in persuasion, and an old photo of her to pinpoint her direction. The money helps too. When I discover that her destination is Cleveland, my urgency to reach her increases ten-fold.

I want to call Faith, to help me find Buffy. But I know how tenuous their relationship still is, and I can't help but feel that she might just scare Buffy away. So I don't, I have to do this on my own.

Hours later, I cross into Cleveland, the sun already gone, and stars filling the night sky. I head for the school at first, but instinctively know she won't be there. There is only one place she'd go to.

There are no lights on from what I can see, but I know she's there. I park on the street, and walk up to the house. Turning the doorknob, it's open, and I walk in, gently closing it behind me.

* * *

a/n: Since I'm actively editing this story still, I'm retracting my claim of 'no more drabbles', sorry bout that.

Buffy next.

thanks again!


	16. Chapter XVI

Because nobody likes a vague **disclaim****er****:** Characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

Buffy POV.

* * *

**Chapter XVI: The Free Bird Names The Sky His Own, But A Caged Bird Stands On The Grave Of Dreams**

_from I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou_

**†**

He finds me sitting at the kitchen table, one hand loosely gripping a mostly empty bottle of whiskey, the other holding a black picture frame.

"What are you doing?" He asks, his words ablaze with worry.

Slowly I turn my head up, and we meet eye to eye.

"I got tired of crying," I slur and turn my head back down to the frame in my hands. He says nothing, and the silence thickens.

"It's my fault they're dead," I say suddenly.

"They should be here, and I should be dead."

I gulp some of the liquid still swishing in the bottle, the burn only a comforting caress as it makes its way down. Angel takes a seat beside me.

"I know you blame yourself, but it's not your fault Buffy. It's taken me a long time, but I've finally realized that things happen as they're meant to." They're in a better place, you know that better than anyone."

He reaches for the bottle in my hand, and I relinquish it without much of a fight.

"You have to live on, for them." He continues.

Unavoidable, I glance at him once more, the movement causing a tear to slide down my cheek. Gingerly, he reaches out and with his thumb he wipes it away.

"For me."

I turn my head away more at his words than by his touch, ignoring the look of rejection that fill his features. I stand sloppily, hindered by the liquor I've consumed.

"Why can't you just leave me in peace?" I yell as I stumble from the room.

I rush up the stairs stumbling only once, and from the corner of my eye I can see his dark brooding form following me as I make my way down the hall. I run into what was once supposed to be my room, and turn to shut the door behind me, but he's already there, and despite my slayer strength, he easily forces his way into the room.

"I can't," He says once he's standing in front of me.

"Why the hell not? I've lived most of my life without you just fine, on my own! Why do you care now anyways? Because they're dead, and you think I'm alone NOW?"

My voice booms in the quiet of the house.

"NEWSFLASH, " I continue, "I was alone a LONG time ago."

His face shifts only slightly, but I know him well enough to catch the confusion my words have filled him with.

It's obvious he doesn't know the entire truth of what happened, and while I feel grateful Faith hadn't given him the gory details, it only means he doesn't know what kind of person I truly am. And once he finds out, I'll lose whatever feelings he has left for me.

"I pushed them away long before they died."

I admit then, my voice quiet, shameful.

"After Sunnydale and we came here, everything was different. I tried, for a little while, not to make it better, but to pretend, like them, that everything was ok. But nothing was. And then, I couldn't pretend anymore. But there was too much hurt and anger to say anything, so I did the only thing I knew. I ran. And by the time I finally came back… it was too late for anything but to watch them die."

When I look back at him, the remorse fades.

"You want to help me?" I snap.

"You can do it by staying the hell away, ok? If you think one of your little trips is going to patch me up and make me all better well, you're wrong. You've got your humanity, the lovely girl, the happy ending! Why don't you just go back to it, and go back to forgetting I exist, ok?"

He doesn't argue, maybe because he knows it'll get him nowhere, maybe because he knows I'm right. Whatever his reasons, which I've never fully understood, he reaches out to me, but I step back avoiding the entrapment of his arms.

A bitter smile taints my features then, and I say, "Oooh. So _that's_ what this is about then... you came back for seconds? It's what I'm good for now, right? Let's just get it over with so you can go back to the she-wolf."

He continues to not react, and his calm demeanour both infuriates and fuels me on. So, to prove my point, I start unbuttoning my shirt.

"Buffy, stop," He finally says, halting my progress with his hands over mine.

I yank them away though, and try to step away, but his reaction is quicker than mine, and he quickly grabs hold of my forearm.

"Let go!" I yell, trying to free myself from his grasp.

"No," He replies simply.

"Leave me alone!" I shout as I try in vain to release his hold on me.

Suddenly, I'm fully aware of his skin connecting with mine. His touch has always made me feel alive, and I feel it, but now, it only burns. We struggle then, my hands on his chest pushing him away and Angel trying to pull me closer. He wins as I finally allow him to hold me, mainly because in his arms is exactly where I want to be. Where I've always wanted to be.

I crumble there, letting the pain of my life and loss out in a sea of tears. We sit on the bed together, time going by without notice of its presence. He runs his hand down my hair and back, offering silent comfort while I cry. Eventually, when my breathing settles to a normal pace, Angel hooks his finger under my chin and forces my face up. His eyes find mine, and there is a softness in them I haven't seen in a long time.

It fills me with fear.

He opens his mouth to speak, but I'm not ready to hear it. Not yet. So, I place a finger over his lips to silence him.

"Not now, ok?" My voice is relenting, and I move slightly away from him to slide back.

"I'm too drunk and broken right now for more words."

I lie down on the bed, curling up into a ball, "Tomorrow."

He nods at my request, and covers me with the blanket at the foot of the bed. He lies beside me, and I can't hide the surprise from my face, but he says nothing of it, only holds me. Exhaustion, stress and the alcohol poisoning my blood quickly knock me out.

When I wake the next morning, I feel my body being cradled by his own, and as complete as I feel there, I know I have to go. I remember throwing myself at him, what I said and what I called Nina. I remember how I let myself fall apart in the crook of his arms. Gently, I break free of his hold managing to not wake him.

Quietly I grab a bag and a few clothes and things before I sneak out of the room and make my way around the house, packing my belongings and some memories of my loved ones. Finding the keys to my car in the exact place I'd left them, I take the couple of bags out to my small still fully loaded hatchback.

I put my key into the ignition, letting out a sigh of relief when the car purrs to a start. I turn it off once more, and head back into the house.

My eyes travel up the staircase to where Angel is sleeping, but I head into the kitchen instead, and pulling out a notepad and a pen I sit at the kitchen table and begin to write.

When I'm finished, I head back into the room to find him still asleep. I place the small folded paper on the pillow beside him, and take a few seconds to look down at his sleeping form. I feel gratitude that he was there for me when I needed it most. I've always loved him, but I know now it's time to let the past go, all of it.

It's time to set him free.

* * *

A/N: Only a few chapters left!

Thanks everyone for reading this angst-fest.

Anyway, Angel Next.


	17. Chapter XVII

Because nobody likes a vague **disclaim****er****:** Characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

Angel POV.

A note: Sorry for the massive delay. Life. Sometimes it gets the better of us. Anyway, uploading two today. The last two will be posted in a few days, maybe a week.

thanks for reading.

* * *

**Chapter XVII: But Love, This Love Has Not Ended: Just As It Never Had A Birth**

**It Has No Death: It Is Like A Long River, Only Changing Lands, And Changing Lips**

_from My Love, If I Die And You Don't— by Pablo Neruda_

**†**

I wake in an empty bed and though I know instinctively that she's gone, I can't help but resent the loss of my heightened senses, and the fact that she was able to leave the circle of my arms without me knowing it. When I finally turn to her empty spot, I see a piece of paper folded neatly in the middle of the pillow next to me.

I look at it for a few seconds before I finally pick it up and gingerly open its folds.

_Angel,_

_I just wanted to apologize for all the pain i've caused you and Nina these last few months. To say i've been wallowing in self-hatred and sorrow is probably the biggest understatement of my life. I always thought that being brought back from Heaven would be the worst thing i'd ever experience, but then, I failed them all and they were gone and I became painfully aware of how wrong i'd been. I let the anguish inside swallow me up, until last night._

_I can't express in words what your presence did for me, so I thank you. Whatever you think you owe me, or need to do for me, you've done it. I can't say it's all perfect now, but you don't have to worry about me anymore._

_I'm in a better place thanks to you._

_I know I probably shouldn't say this, but i've always loved you. Even after Riley, after Spike, after the endless meaningless conquests I've had, it's still you. I hope you can understand why I had to leave the way I did, and why we can't see each other ever again. So please, don't look for me anymore._

_I want you to be happy, you deserve it._

_And Nina, she's a good woman. I know she'll make you happy._

_And I'll survive, I always do._

_Buffy_

She's never been more wrong in her life, and as I get out of her bed I find myself wishing I'd at least told her that I love her too.

Without the help of public transportation, no sure idea of her direction, and with only the knowledge of her plates, I spend the next month in Cleveland, and end up turning to Faith to help me locate her. Undoubtedly, she hid her tracks this time, and after two false trails and four more weeks, I find her by pure chance, luck or fate I'm not sure which, she's further North than I expected, in the city of New York.

I'm not sure why, but I follow her around for a few days, skulking in the shadows like in the good old days. Not once does it seem like she knows I'm here, and I expect it's because I'm human now.

Her life saddens me; she lives a life of routine, monotonous and steadfast. She works at a clothing boutique in the morning, then walks a group of dogs in one of the city parks, seemingly to get in her own workout. After she goes back to her apartment for an hour or so, she then heads into a diner nearby where she works the evening shift. Unsurprisingly, her nights are filled with vampires. I see her do little else than work, and I hate how alone she seems.

I'm inside the diner where she works the evening I decide to approach her, and just before I do, I overhear a conversation she has with some guy behind the counter. She hasn't seen me because I know her section, and so I sit exactly in the right spot where she can't see my face, yet in the reflection of the glass above I can make her out.

"Anne?" The guy's voice is carefree and light as he calls out her name. I'm not surprised by the change.

"Yeah?" She answers.

"I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go out for a cup of coffee, or tea, if you'd prefer, after work today?"

I can't help but feel jealousy boil inside me at the question, but I freeze, waiting for her answer instead.

"I'd really like to Nick, but i'm beat. Rain check?"

I exhale a breath I hadn't known I was holding, and I feel the sudden urge to laugh in the chumps face.

"Long day? Been there. Ok, no worries. Next time."

Nick's voice retains the lightness despite her rejection, and I chance a look back at them.

"Have a goodnight and see you tomorrow," She replies simply.

Nick then flashes her a big grin, and a small one creeps onto her own, and I briefly worry if she finds his attitude refreshing.

"You too, take it easy," Nick responds.

My eyes follow her outside and when she's out of sight, I stand and take a seat at the bar, that's more counter really, deciding I'd like to get to know this Nick character, who's obviously so smitten with Buffy. Maybe get some info out of him while I'm at it. I've got time since Buffy's on the slay.

I don't follow, not because as a human I'm more hindrance than help, but because following her through the city on the chaotic subway lines AND trying to stay out of view is next to impossible, and besides, the woman can handle herself.

* * *

A/N: I wrote this ages ago, and I wanted to rework it, but since it's been so long, i'm just going with what I got. You've been disclaimed. Anyway, Buffy Next.


	18. Chapter XVIII

Because nobody likes a vague **disclaim****er****:** Characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

Buffy POV.

* * *

**Chapter XVIII : Storm, Blow Me From Here With Your Fiercest Wind. ****Let Me Float Across The Sky 'Til I Can Rest Again**

_from Woman Work by Maya Angelou_

**†**

I drive for one straight day stopping only to eat, use the bathroom and gas up when I finally crash at a small motel in New York State. The next day I realize i'm only a couple hours away from Manhattan, and when I get there, I immediately know this is where i'm supposed to be. There are actual season changes here, and it feels far enough. And from the moment I get here, I like it.

I sell my car and put down a first and last deposit on a small apartment in Manhattan in the East Village. The city is big enough to disappear in, and crowded enough that the sting of loneliness only ebbs at the edges of my mind. In this city of cities, I am merely one among hundreds, alone with the world at my fingertips. Besides, there is no shortage of things that go bump in the night.

But they're different. Either because they're New Yorkers or the desire to end the world isn't strong, the vamps here aren't very ambitious. Mostly, they want to feed and party. It's the perfect medium for me because I don't think I have it in me to stop another apocalypse but I also don't have it in me to quit slaying altogether. It's all I have left.

"Anne?" His carefree voice interrupts my morbid thoughts and I groan inwardly.

Nick works with me at the diner, and he's had a thing for me since I started. Turning to face him, I force a polite smile onto my face. I already know what he's going to ask, and I already know what I'm going to say.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go out for a cup of coffee, or tea if you'd prefer, after work today?"

His cheeks are tainted red, and his confident sincerity makes my smile more genuine, and if I didn't have a trunk full of issues, I might be tempted to say yes.

"I'd really like to Nick, but I'm beat. Rain check?"

I've been 'rain checking' him for a month now, and my patience is running thin. I just figured that after the 4th rejection, he'd get the hint. Apparently not.

"Long day? Been there. Ok, no worries. Next time." His smile looks unsurprised and only slightly defeated.

I'm starting to realize that I'm going to have to be more direct in my denial. Just not today.

"Have a goodnight and see you tomorrow." I reply simply.

He flashes a big grin, and it's contagious enough that a small one creeps onto my own in response.

"You too, take it easy."

By the look on his face, I know I've made an error. He hasn't gotten the hint because he manages to crack through my wall (like just now), and he mistakes the authenticity of my smile for interest. I mentally kick myself for that, and make it a point to avoid doing it in the future.

Walking outside, the crisp air feels fresh on my face and it feels like it's going to be a good night for slaying.

My intuition is right, and it's not until well after 2am that I get home. I turn on the single light by the door, and unload the necessary layers of clothing needed for living here. I head for my bedroom, peel off my skinny jeans, grab my bathrobe and head to the bathroom for my routine shower. An evening of serving food and slaying vampires leaves enough residue that one is needed.

Stepping out of the tub, a sensation as familiar as the shape of Mr. Pointy strikes me. I know better than to hope, but the feeling is there, and all it's ever meant is him. How I even feel him doesn't exactly register. I can't help but feel like he's always walking in and out of my life, and no matter how many times it feels like the end, it never really is.

I throw on my robe, run a brush through my hair, and check myself over in the mirror. It'll have to do; my fresh face and wet hair because I'm not sure I can wait much longer.

Stepping out of the bathroom I know I'm right. The light that was on is now off, and I can see the faint glow of the living room lamp. I inhale a deep breath, and exhale steadily; trying to slow down my fast-pumping heart, even though I know he won't hear it.

I walk into the room to find him sitting in my quaint old armchair, and it's the sight I imagined when first laying eyes on it that prompted me to buy it.

"Angel."

I say, my voice exactly the same as my sixteen-year-old counterpart once said it. A welcome tinged with elation, an unrestricted declaration of love, a spreading of warmth within my heart.

"Buffy," He responds, his eyes already fixated on me.

He says it the way he always had as well, a promise of devotion but this time there is also a hint of relief in it. He offers a slight one-sided sweet smile, and it makes me want to roll my eyes at him for it.

"How did you find me?" I ask indifferently. Maintaining casualness is key here. It's the safest zone for my battered heart.

"Nice to see you too," He responds, still as a hawk, but clearly feeling at home in my apartment. Yes, I like it.

"And to answer your question, it wasn't easy. After Cleveland..." He pauses painfully.

"I pretty much lost track of you. It just never occurred to me that you'd head so far away. Luckily, one of the slayers left that has actually met you, was here visiting her family and she saw you. Small world... anyways, she told Faith, who told me. After that, with four jobs and all, it got a lot less difficult."

I take in his words, and although he says them gently, they strike a familiar nerve within me.

"And you felt entitled to break into my apartment while I was in the shower because you were so good at playing detective?" There's some harshness to my tone of voice that I rightly feel he deserves.

He chuckles lightly, "Hardly. You're just as predictable as ever."

He opens his palm, and inside it is what I recognize as the spare key I leave on top of the door ledge. As a slayer, I have to have one somewhere; what with my nightly excursions, keys are bound to get lost.

"You know, this is the city. You should be extra careful."

I can tell he wants to tease me, but the words come out sincere.

"I can take care of myself," I answer briskly.

"So now I have the how, what's the why?"

* * *

a/n: ok, last chapter next. Angel... and Buffy pov. stay tuned.


	19. Chapter XIX

So, here it is. The end, after an eternity of nothing. Not my best work, but better now than letting another year go by. Thanks for reading. An epilogue to soon follow.

**WARNING: **This chapter features both POVS. Buffy will be bold and italicized to avoid confusion (hopefully).

* * *

**Chapter XIX: Nothing In The World Is Single, All Things By A Law Divine ****In One Another's Being Mingle—Why Not I With Thine?**

_from Love's Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley_

**†**

My expression gets serious all of a sudden as I answer, "I'm tired of all the unspoken words between us, Buffy. Of all the miscommunication that has lead us here. There are so many things I left unsaid, things that might have changed the course of our lives."

I stop, unsure how I should continue.

After a few seconds, I resume, "And then, Nina happened."

**_I flinch slightly at the name, and wrap my arms around myself, trying to mimic the feeling within._**

Sensing her distress, I almost stop there, but I know I need to continue.

"She was there for me even when I was a hollow shell of myself. Her darkness saved me from my own. It was that part of her which allowed me to let her in. In a way, she was just like me. Possessed by a demon like mine, one neither one of us was in full control of. I never expected to, but I grew to love her."

My words seem to suddenly be too much because she walks past me but I make no move to stop her, so she ends up in front of the window.

**_He seems to think this information will help somehow but it doesn't. He doesn't seem to realize there's darkness in me too, and I have my own demons; literal and metaphorical. And though he knows me body and soul, he can't seem to see this side of me. I'm just as much a slave to the night as he once was, and as Nina still is._**

**_The moon hangs up above me, his reflection behind, and the sight of them both pins me still. _**

**_"You don't have to continue, I know all the rest," I say. _**

I look at her back since her mirrored image is too dim to catch her eyes.

"But you don't."

She doesn't turn to face me as I thought she would, so I continue.

"When Faith called me, when she told me what happened, my only concern was you. But I stupidly believed it was only duty that lead me there. And then you were so distant. In the past, you always let me in, but that time, you didn't. If I still had any illusions about us, those few days vanquished them. And after having been four years apart, I truly believed that what we had was over. Consequently, I made a lot of foolish decisions because of that."

**_Unable to hear him narrate our finality any longer I ask_ _impatiently, "Where are you going with all this?"_**

"In the hospital, I realized you knew about the Shanshu since you never brought my humanity up. What I don't think you know, and what I denied to myself from the moment it happened, is how I got it in the first place."

"I think its pretty obvious, you saved the world," She answers sarcastically.

"Redemption and that whole chestnut," She adds after a moment, her voice suddenly wistful.

"Well, you're not wrong. Aside from your context."

Confused, she finally turns towards me.

"I saved the world, my world."

She looks perplexed still, so I clarify, "You. It was saving your life, that gave me my own."

The air grows silent between us, until finally, exasperated she says, "I'm sure all that was extremely difficult to say, especially for you, but I still don't understand what you want me to do with this knowledge."

I stand then, and walk over to her. Up close, I can see the slight changes in her appearance. The sharp angles of her curves are replaced by a softness I haven't seen on her since she was young and unfettered by life on a Hellmouth. I'm mostly referring to myself, and what happened consequently after that fateful night of her 17th birthday.

Not only is there a vitality about her and a blush on her skin, there is a calmness in her eyes, acutely distinct from the storm I usually see in them. As if she's found some sort of peace in the chaos of this city. Realizing the truth of the notion, it all suddenly doesn't matter anymore. Not the past, not all the words I planned on saying, not even the fear of her potential rejection.

"I'm trying to tell you that I love you Buffy. I always have, I always will," I say then, my voice laced with acceptance, because I know I have no choice in the matter, and I wouldn't change it even if I could.

**_I want to respond to his declaration, rejoice in the certainty of finally knowing his heart. But then I remember that that fact has never held him to my side before. And I remember Nina. _**

**_I part my lips to speak, her name on the tip of my tongue, but he says, "Before you say anything, know this: Nina and I ended things. Just before Cleveland." _**

**_I don't know how to react to that information. Am I supposed to feel relief at a good woman's broken heart? Am I supposed to forget the mind numbing fear that he'll hurt me again? All I know for certain, is that it's a safer course to tell him to go. I know that if he broke me again, all the horses and all the king's men wouldn't be able to fix me again. _**

**_But I can't do that either. If he leaves, and I never see him again, I might break anyway. So, I choose the familiar voice of silence instead, unable to speak, unable to move._**

Although still with her arms crossed around herself, I see her walls of protection start to slip, giving me the courage I need. The only connection I have in this moment are her eyes locked onto my own. Needing more than that, I reach out to hold her.

**S_eeing him extend his arm out for me fills me with fear. I can't let him touch me or I might really break apart now, can't hide the desperation and weakness in my voice when I beg, "Wait." _**

**_His arm drops quickly, but otherwise he doesn't move._**

**_"__As long as you need," He replies simply._**

**_I don't say anything at first because I suddenly realize, our meeting is not going to end the way it does in the movies, but maybe that's ok. It was no lie when he spoke of all the things we never said to each other, and I know it played a big part in our relationship, and in its end._**

**_"__I'm finally- I'm getting to a better place. It's taken me this long to finally feel like i'm ok. Like I can handle my life. With everything that's happened, it's probably the last time-my last chance. And you and me, it's-"_**

**_I make the sound of an explosion, as there is no better way to explain what Angel and I have. He nods, and by the look on his face he doesn't seem to like where I'm going with this._**

**_"__You know? I just don't think I have it in me to go through it have just never worked out for us. Maybe they were never supposed to."_**

While it was true that things between them had always been difficult, that was no longer the case.

"You can't believe that, not anymore."

"I do," She replies simply, as if there were nothing truer.

She's stubborn to a fault, but so am I.

"One day you'll come to your senses, and I will be here waiting when you do."

I want nothing more than to touch her, but it's clear she's not ready for that. I look into her eyes for one last moment then turn to leave, to give her the space I know she needs right now.

**_I continue to stand still, lost in the quicksand of fear sinking me. His steps are laggard and unwilling all at the same time. When he reaches the door and opens it, he pauses. _**

**_"__I'll be seeing you Buffy," He says turning to look at me._**

**_Quickly, I turn to face him._**

**_"Angel!" I blurt out so forcefully it's almost a shout. _**

**_He's halfway out the door when he stops, but doesn't turn back towards me, only shifts his head sideways to let me know he's listening. _**

**_I step closer to him, my apprehension towards heartbreak finally fractured. _**

**_"Don't go," I plea. _**

**_After a moment of stillness even a vampire would be impressed by, he faces me. _**

**_"I don't want to," He says at first._**

**_"But I though you didn't want me to stay," He adds. _**

**_Quietly, I move to stand in front of him. Without words, I reach past him, my skin inches away from his own, and close the door behind him. Our gaze fixated on one another, I see the thrill of desire that flashes through his eyes at my proximity. _**

**_"I was afraid," I admit. _**

**_"I have that effect on people sometimes," His voice retaining the same tone of defeat from before. _**

**_Usually here, I'd use some play on words, or a joke about his misunderstanding. Right now, I just want to erase the melancholy in his features. _**

**_"Not of you. Never of you." _**

**_I speak soothingly, and hesitantly extend my arm, placing my fingers over his now pulsing heart. I look down at my hand, and smile. Forgetting the rest of my words, when his own lands over mine. _**

"Afraid of what then?" I prompt even though I could stand like this forever.

Her face turns back up towards mine, her face all seriousness again.

"I was afraid of opening my heart. But then you almost walked out that door, and then I was more afraid of never seeing you again."

I pull her closer to me with my free arm until she's pressed tightly against me. My hand moves from over hers to her back, just as hers slides up to pull herself closer. My lips descend on hers, and even human, I've never felt so alive as I do in this moment.


	20. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Both Of Them Deaf To The Fiddle****In The Hands Of The Death's-Head Shadowing Their Song**

_from Two Views Of A Cadaver Room by Sylvia Plath_

**†**

Death still occasionally permeates my dreams, but my life blossoms, enough to ease the pains of my loss. I still miss my family, but I don't blame myself anymore. I know that everything happens for a reason, even death. Mine will come too eventually. But right now, I only focus on the happiness that's finally found me. A fresh start, with the only man I've ever loved.

We both decide that first night in my apartment, that the past was exactly that. Past.

Our first week together, we hole up only venturing out for food and the occasional walk through Central park, making up for lost time. Eventually, Angel sells his Hotel despite my protests, and buys a relatively small townhouse in New York with the profits. The city makes sense for us, together we can get lost in the bustle of the big Apple.

He works at an Art Gallery. I quit the diner and teach a few self defence classes instead, though I continue to walk dogs in the afternoons, not for the money, but because I actually enjoy it.

I still slay. Sometimes. When I want to. It no longer calls to me though, as it once had. The only call my body feels these days, is towards him.

We both like the lack of space of our home, neither failing to relish in the notion of it being _our _home, seemingly only because it justifies our constant need to be with one another when we're inside of it. After only a few months, we've made love on almost every surface.

The kitchen. It started out as a playful food fight, a flick of flour in his face, and then the kitchen was a mess, ingredients all over the place, our bodies splayed all over the floor, as we wrestled for dominance. But then I was pinned underneath him, and he caught the look of want in my eyes. And well, one thing led to another.

Against the patio door. The sun was just rising, and Angel sleeping fitfully from our fight the night before, woke early enough to catch it. I felt him get out of bed, and unable to fall back asleep, got up as well. Walking out of the room and down the stairs, a blanket wrapped tightly around myself, I saw him standing in front of the glass doors leading to our surprisingly private backyard.

I knew he was watching the sunrise, and smiled. And even though I was still mad at him for blowing me off for some private showing at the gallery, it quickly faded at the sight of him. I walked towards him, and stopped just behind him.

Opening my blanket, I wrapped my arms around his waist, stepped on my tippy toes, and placed a tender kiss on his shoulder blade, over his exposed gryphon tattoo. I felt him shiver when my lips make contact, an ache developing between my legs at his response. His hands grasped mine when they were finally around him.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. One of his hands pulled me, and then I was standing in front of him.

"Me too."

The sun forgotten, he kissed me again and again. Eventually he lifted me off the ground, my legs hooked around his waist naturally, and pinned me between the sliding door and himself.

He had his way with me under the rays of the rising sun.

Point is, even though it always felt like he was walking in and out of my life, no matter how many times it feels like the end, it never really is.

I had to lose everyone I loved, and myself in the process, to finally get it.


End file.
